Al Intiqaam (Revenge)
by Blue Kangaroo
Summary: Season 8 AU fic, starts after the events of episode 16. An old enemy has returned to seek revenge against Jack... but Jack isn't the only target that he has in his sights. Revenge is sweet, but this isn't just a personal vendetta; it's one piece of a larger plan.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **Al-Intiqaam (Arabic for "Revenge" or "Vendetta")

**Rating: **T or M, for violence and language

**Disclaimer:** As much as I wish I did, I don't own "24" or its characters!

**Summary:** An old enemy has returned to seek revenge against Jack… but Jack isn't the only target in his sights. He's only one piece of a bigger plan.

Lately, I've been musing over some fiction story plots that could be fanfic material. With the impending return of 24 (May 5, 2014! Eeekk!), and my muse giving me plot ideas again, this seemed like as good of a time as any to write fanfic again! :-)

I wrote the first chapter of this story as a one-shot, shortly after President Omar Hassan's death (episode 16 of season 8), but never posted it. I came across it today, and decided to tweak it and tie it in with the plot of this longer fic. I'm using episode 8x16 as a springboard for an AU story. That means that all of the season 8 events after this episode (including Renee's death, obviously) never took place!

* * *

><p><strong>Al-Intiqaam<strong>

Chapter 1

Jack leaned his head against the cool glass of the airplane window, studying the terrain below them.

A gentle tap on his shoulder startled him. He turned to see a woman dressed in a neat black skirt and jacket and with a simple scarf draped over her dark hair, standing in the aisle beside his seat. The woman ducked her head apologetically. "I'm sorry; I did not mean to scare you. I just wanted to let you know that we will be landing in ten minutes."

Across the aisle, a few seats ahead of Renee, sat Dalia and Kayla Hassan. Dalia sat mutely in her seat, her eyes swollen and red, twisting a limp and torn Kleenex tissue through her fingers. She nodded silently as the attendant touched her shoulder gently and quietly repeated the message. "May I get anything for you?" she added.

Dalia shook her head. "No, thank you, Karima," she said hoarsely.

Karima moved through the small airplane cabin, pausing to address Renee, President Allison Taylor, and the small group of trusted aides from both administrations who had traveled with them. Jack noticed that the president had tucked a silver pen, the gift from Omar Hassan that Dalia had given her after his death, into the breast pocket of her suit jacket.

Renee sat up straighter in her seat as the plane's wheels touched down on the airport tarmac. "Welcome to Badar, the capital city of the Islamic Republic of Kamistan," the pilot's voice announced, in English for the benefit of their guests. "Welcome home," he added respectfully to the Hassans.

Dalia got to her feet, a polite and gracious hostess, even in her grief. "Welcome to our country," she said, smiling ever so slightly.

Allison Taylor smiled sadly. "I wish it were under much better circumstances."

It was early in the morning in Kamistan, and the sun had just begun to rise over the country. The fiery orange ball of light in the sky was just barely visible over the top of the airplane. Its rays glinted off of the plane's sleek, glossy body as the group of passengers disembarked and gathered on the tarmac, flanked by members of both presidents' security details.

They turned their backs to the members of the media who were hovering nearby.

From somewhere nearby, a muezzin's voice rang out with the first melodic notes of the _Adhan,_ calling the Muslim faithful to prayer. Multiple chanting voices rose from mosques throughout the city, blending together in an overlapping chorus.

It was against this backdrop that Omar Hassan's body was carried out of the airplane's cargo hold.

Silent tears fell down Dalia's cheeks, and her chin quivered as she suppressed a sob. Kayla leaned her head against her mother's shoulder, staring mutely at the white-shrouded box containing her father's body, as it was carefully slid into the back of the van waiting nearby.

As the van slowly drove out of sight, an imposing man stepped up alongside Dalia. He carried a pistol secured in a shoulder holster. He glanced in the direction where the van had departed, and addressed Dalia and the American guests. "President Hassan will be prepared for burial" – Dalia made a choked sound — "and the funeral ceremony will take place this evening."

He motioned towards the waiting caravan of official vehicles. "Come."

**/ / / / /**

Renee adjusted the scarf covering her hair. She and President Taylor had been assured that no one expected them, non-Muslims, to cover their heads, but they had both chosen to out of respect.

The mourners stood solemn and silent. Men lined one side of the grave, and women the other. Omar Hassan's body had been washed, first with water and then with oils and herbs, then wrapped in a shroud of simple white cloth. Now he lay on the ground at the head of the open grave.

Dalia and Kayla knelt and briefly placed their hands on his head and chest, saying a silent goodbye. More tears spilled down Dalia's cheeks as she gripped the shroud's white fabric in her trembling fingers. She drew in a shuddering breath and slowly, painfully, pulled the fabric over her husband's face.

Kayla squeezed her eyes shut. At her side, her left hand reached out ever so slightly. President Taylor was the one who saw it, and she wordlessly took the young woman's trembling hand and clasped it gently.

The imam, wearing a black _shalwar kameez_ and turban, moved to stand by the corpse's shoulder to lead the prayers. Everyone turned to the west, their backs to the shrouded body and the imam. _"Allahu akbar", _his clear, melodic chant rang out. The crowd of Muslim mourners huddled around the grave lifted their hands and repeated the words.

The group recited the prayers in unison, chanting solemnly with one voice. Death was a part of life, and this ritual was a part of death.

Two men stepped forward, one at Hassan's head and the other at his feet. Together, they lifted the shrouded body and gently placed it in the casket that was open and waiting. Two more men joined them and closed the wooden lid of the casket. A stifled cry came from Dalia, and a choked sob from Kayla, as the four men stooped and gently lowered Hassan's casket into the grave. As they did, the imam's voice rang out again. _"Bismillah-i w'ala millat-i rasulillah," _he intoned. _In the name of Allah, and in accordance with the way of His messenger._

With the casket in the grave, the four pallbearers stepped back. The imam knelt at the head of the grave and scooped up a handful of loose dirt in his fingers. _"Minha Khalaqna-kum,"_ he chanted as he sprinkled the dirt over the top of the casket. Picking up another handful, he continued, _"Wa fi-ha nu'idu-kum."_ With the third, he said, _"Wa min-ha nukhriju-kum laat-an ukhra."_

Kayla and Dalia approached the grave and took their turn at the ritual, their voices barely above a whisper.

Everyone else followed, three handfuls of dirt at a time.

As the others had done, Renee chanted the words in Arabic.

Following behind her, President Taylor quietly and solemnly spoke them in English. _"Out of the Earth we created you,"_ she said, sprinkling the first handful over the casket. Picking up the second handful: _"Into it we deposit you now."_ And the third: _"And from it, God shall take you out again."_

The crowd's voice rose as one, in Arabic. _"Peace to you. Allah willing, we will all join you. May Allah forgive you and have mercy on you, and on all of us."_

"_Allahu akbar."_

With that, the body of Omar Hassan was solemnly committed to the earth, and the ceremony concluded.

As the mourners filed away from the grave, the group of visiting American officials gathered around Dalia and Kayla. Formalities aside, President Taylor reached for Dalia and drew her into a comforting hug, as Renee did the same for Kayla.

"I am so sorry," she whispered.

Dalia shook her head. "Do not apologize," she said, addressing both Renee and Jack. "You did everything that you could to try to save him."

A member of her security team, carrying a short-barreled tactical rifle slung across his chest, spoke up. He was facing Dalia and directly addressing her, but the words were intended for everyone else as well. "You know that the IRK has been involved in conflicts in this region for decades. This treaty was a fragile one, at best. Remember that not everyone in this country loved and supported your husband. Some may see his death as an opportunity to – "

Dalia held up a hand to stop him. "Please," she said quietly. "I trust you all; we always have. We are in capable hands. Do what you think is best. Forgive me, but I can't think about any of that now. You understand, yes? Let us just get through the rest of today."

"Of course, Mrs. Hassan. I understand." The man nodded sympathetically.

He turned to address their American guests. "For now, arrangements have been made for you at the Hassans' residence here in Badar. You all are honored guests here, welcome in our country," he said.

"Thank you," Jack told him. "I wish it were under much better circumstances."

"As do I," the man agreed sadly.

"Come. Let's go."

.

_More to come soon, hopefully! Working on the next chapter(s) now!_

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	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"_Allahu akbar! Allahu akbar! Ash-hadu an laa ilaha il-Allah! Ash-hadu an Muhammad un rasoul Allah! Hayya 'alas-Salah! Hayya 'alas-Salah!"_

The light of the rising sun, filtering in through the open window, was accompanied by the haunting melody of a muezzin calling the Muslim faithful to early morning prayer from a nearby mosque.

Renee opened her eyes, blinking in the soft orange glow that filled the bedroom.

She stretched lazily, relishing the cozy comfort of the thick, cushioned mattress and soft blankets.

Surveying her surroundings, she saw that Jack's side of the large bed was vacant and neatly made, and his clothes were no longer folded on the chair across the room. Sighing, she slid out of bed, pulled up and straightened the covers on her side, and reached for her clothes to get dressed.

The door knob turned easily in her hand, and the door opened without a sound. As Renee stepped out into the hallway, she was met by an olive-skinned man with a friendly smile. _"Sabah al-khair,"_ she greeted him in Arabic.

His smile widened. _"Sabah al-noor,"_ he replied, then switched to nearly flawless English. "My name is Nouri. Good morning, Agent Walker. Did you sleep well?" She nodded. "Good. There are some things set out for you all for breakfast, down the hallway there. Agent Bauer is there."

"Wonderful. Thank you."

She found Jack sitting at the long table, cradling a steaming cup of coffee. The table was spread with various breakfast foods; Renee saw scrambled eggs, bagels, and fresh fruit, along with the more traditional Middle Eastern offerings of yogurt, warm pita flatbread, pastries, olives, hummus, _labneh_, and honey. A pot of thick and rich _qahwa _coffee, a carafe of orange juice, and a silver kettle of tea were also present.

Jack turned as he heard her approaching. "Morning."

"Good morning." Renee made a beeline for the teapot and poured herself a steaming cup. She added a small spoonful of honey and took an experimental sip. _Perfect._ The tea was hot and strong, flavored with hints of mint and honey. "Ahh. Thank goodness for caffeine. God, I hate jet lag." She fixed a small plate with some of the breakfast offerings, and sat down at the table across from him.

Nouri stepped into the room. "Mrs. Hassan and Kayla went to the cemetery to spend some time there, and President Taylor is with them. The few others are still asleep."

He swept his hand in a wide arc, indicating the entirety of the Hassans' massive sprawling property. "You are guests here; please make yourselves welcome. This is a very unfortunate occasion, but it does not have to be miserable. President Hassan was very proud of this nation, and would be honored to share it with you. If you need fresh air, feel free to take it. There are horses if you would like to ride. I could arrange for you to get out and see more of the city, go shopping in the bazaar in the Old Quarter, see the mosques. Or, considering who you are and your background," he added with a smile, "maybe you would like to make use of these." He gestured to the pistol in his shoulder holster. "The security team has a variety of weapons – rifles, handguns, explosive ordnance. You are welcome to try some of them."

Renee chuckled. "Time on the shooting range with the president of Kamistan's security detail. That sounds like a very appealing idea." She sipped her tea. "I've been all over the Middle East, but this is my first time in Kamistan. I would love to go out and explore some." Jack nodded in agreement.

Nouri nodded. "Then, indeed, you shall. As I said, President Hassan loved this country, and he would have been honored to introduce you to it. I will find some of the security detail to escort you."

When Nouri returned to Jack and Renee, he was followed by four agents from the Hassans' security team. To both Jack and Renee's surprise, one of them was a woman. She was tall and slender, and carried a Beretta 92 pistol tucked comfortably into the holster at her hip.

Nouri pointed to each of them in turn. "These are Adnan, Hakim, Yousif, and Laila. They will escort you today."

Jack and Renee nodded and smiled. "Thank you."

Laila returned Renee's smile. "It's our pleasure. Welcome to Kamistan."

Two gray SUV's were waiting outside. Yousif and Laila opened the back doors of the first one and ushered Jack and Renee into the backseat. Laila climbed into the front passenger seat, and Yousif opened the driver's door and slid behind the wheel. That left Adnan and Hakim to occupy the second vehicle behind them.

This was a nation in mourning, as evidenced by the solemn behavior, women dressed in dark clothes, and black flags fluttering from sign posts and storefronts. Nevertheless, even with the somber and sad undertone, daily life went on.

Street musicians and performers, vendors hawking their wares, honking car horns, and voices from the crowds of people, all blended together in a chaotic swirl of colors, smells, and sounds.

As the six of them made their way through the streets on foot, two men in the crowd slowed their pace and fell back, melting into the hustle and bustle, unnoticed.

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	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: **Jack and Renee's exploration of Kamistan in this chapter is based off of some of the places that I saw and visited during my time in the Middle East (Gaza, Israel, Jordan, and Iraqi Kurdistan) in 2010 and 2011. Including the radio station with interesting music offerings - in particular, the English/Arabic rap/dance mix of "Cotton Eyed Joe"! If I could have gotten copies of that song and some of the others, they would have been my travel theme songs for those trips! :-)

Here's another chapter!

Chapter 3

Jack and Renee found that the four security agents were excellent tour guides, and seemed to enjoy the experience as much as their guests did.

Renee tucked her hand into Jack's and walked arm in arm with him as they wandered through the narrow alleyways and cobblestone streets in the "Old Quarter" area of Badar.

They lost all track of time as their guides led them through the city, including two of the massive and beautiful mosques.

As they passed a vendor selling falafel from a streetside stand, Jack's stomach growled. Laila laughed. _"Hal anta jaw'aan?"_ she asked him in Arabic, smiling. "Are you hungry?"

"I am," Renee spoke up, raising her hand.

"It's lunch time. Let's find something to eat. I know where you can get some of the best _shawarma _wraps and chicken kebabs in all of Badar."

Standing in front of a vendor's stall, as Renee counted out the money to pay for her meal, she felt Laila stiffen uneasily next to her. The vendor handed her a plate laden with steaming rice, a piece of pita, and grilled chicken kebabs. _"Shukran,"_ Renee told him with a smile, gratefully taking the plate. The woman's head turned as she peered into the crowd. _"Madha?"_ Renee asked her quietly. "What?"

Laila shook her head. "Nothing. For a moment, it looked like that man there…. Never mind. It is nothing."

She picked up the plate that the man handed her, and motioned to a low concrete wall nearby. "Come and sit."

Adnan sat down alongside Jack on the low wall. "Where would you like to go next? There is a _souq_ nearby. Would you like to see it?"

Jack and Renee both nodded. Jack remembered the open-air markets that he had patrolled during his Army deployments to Afghanistan and Iraq. "Sure. Maybe I'll find some things to bring home for Kim and Teri."

"All right. We will go when you are finished eating."

Jack took another bite of one of the chicken kebabs. "You were right, Laila. This is delicious." Renee nodded her agreement as she scooped up a spoonful of rice from the plate that the two of them were sharing.

When the group had finished their meals, Yousif and Laila collected their trash and discarded it. Then, with Adnan leading the way, they headed off towards the marketplace.

**/ / / / /**

A man seated at a table in front of one of the shops pulled a cell phone from his pocket and dialed a number.

"_Na'am?"_ the voice on the other end answered curtly.

"_Al Ameriki'ina wa'saluu," _he said simply. _The Americans are here. _"I've been following them."

"Good. And are you still? You're sure you haven't been spotted?"

"Yes. I'm out of sight. Now they're heading towards the _souq _on Al Maqriyah street."

"Ah, perfect. Keep following them. Don't lose them. And keep me updated." With that, the call ended and the line went dead.

**/ / / / /**

As they parked the cars and walked down the street, Laila pointed to the large open-air marketplace that was just ahead. "There, see?"

A band of musicians were playing instruments, filling the air with the sounds of traditional Arab music. Renee's fingers tapped the beat on her leg, keeping time with the infectious upbeat rhythm of the _tabla_ drummer.

A group of young boys darted past them, laughing and shouting as they ran. Yousif caught Renee's arm as one of the boys collided with her, making her trip. "Are you all right?" he asked as the boy, startled and wide-eyed, rushed off to join his friends.

She nodded. "Perfectly fine. No harm done."

Jack and Renee let their guides lead them through the maze of stalls. Colorful fabric canopies were draped over the wide aisles to provide some relief from the sun. Vendors had set up rows of stalls, selling everything from fruits and vegetables to hand-woven carpets.

Renee stopped to admire a pale blue scarf. The vendor immediately latched on to her as an American tourist, perfect for a potential sale. His eyes widened in surprise as she frowned at the price that he named and skillfully began bartering with him.

"Very good, _Ameriki,"_ he said in English, laughing, as they came to an agreement at last. Renee smiled back as she paid him, picked up the scarf, and walked on.

They passed tables filled with food, shimmering gold jewelry, stacks of hand-woven baskets, colorful clothes, scarves in every color of the rainbow, and countless other items.

Jack picked out an elegant dark blue embroidered scarf and a silver bracelet for Kim, a small carved wooden horse statue and a miniature-sword letter opener for Stephen, and a red scarf and a small handmade doll for Teri.

Finally, they reached the other end of the bazaar and found themselves standing in front of a busy main road again. Yousif glanced at the position of the sun overhead. "If you are ready, we should probably go back soon," he said. "We've been out for quite a while."

No one disagreed, so they began making their way back through the streets to their cars. This time, Laila and Adnan rode with Jack and Renee, and Yousif and Hakim followed behind them in the second car.

"Thank you all," Renee said with a smile as they climbed into the two vehicles. "This was wonderful. You were excellent tour guides."

Hakim returned her smile. "It was our pleasure. I am glad you enjoyed yourselves. We did, too."

Adnan fiddled with the radio dial as Laila drove, and settled on a station that was playing an interesting random mixture of popular modern Arabic songs, traditional Arabic music, and current top hits in English. "Cultural field trip and time travel, all in one station," Renee said with a chuckle.

Both she and Jack were unable to contain their laughter when an older Arabic song by Um Kalthoum ended, and the next song to come on was a version of the country song "Cotton-Eyed Joe" made into a dance mix interspersed with Arabic rap. Grinning, and clearly pleased at their amusement, Adnan turned up the volume.

The laughter stopped abruptly as both Adnan and Laila yelled in alarm.

Laila cursed as she slammed on the brakes, trying to avoid the white pickup truck that was suddenly speeding towards them. Behind them, tires screeched as Yousif and Hakim's SUV swerved.

In a green plastic trash can on the curb, an improvised explosive device had been hastily but skillfully constructed from a worn canvas bag, blocks of plastic explosive, a series of wires, and a duct-taped cellular phone that was just waiting for a call.

Seconds later, that call came and the phone began to ring. The explosion obliterated the trash can, turning a few melted molten plastic shards into flaming airborne projectiles.

The force of the blast's concussive shockwave, and accompanying fireball, violently rocked the lead SUV. It teetered precariously on two wheels, coming dangerously close to tipping over, before crashing back down onto all four wheels again. Inside the vehicle; Adnan, Laila, Jack, and Renee were flung about like rag dolls. Adnan's head snapped forward, then back. He was dead even before his body had fully fallen back against the seat again. Laila managed to yank her pistol out of its holster, but it flew out of her hand and slid out of reach on the floor as she pitched forward in her seat. Her head glanced off of the driver's door window, and blood began to trickle from the gash on her temple.

In the next instant, three vehicles collided in an explosion of metal and glass. The lead SUV was struck from two sides at once, as Yousif and Hakim plowed into them from the rear, and the white pickup truck slammed full-speed into their right side and T-boned them.

Yousif groped frantically for his radio. _"Mayday!" _he yelled in Arabic. _"We are under attack!"_ He didn't have a chance to say any more. The pickup truck's doors flew open, and three masked men leaped onto the pavement, gripping AK-47 rifles. Gunshots erupted, and shell casings and glass shards flew, as they swarmed over the two incapacitated SUV's and opened fire.

_**TBC….**_


	4. Chapter 4

The character of Jamie in this chapter is based off of a friend of mine.

Jamie L. proudly served in the United States military, and then served his community as a firefighter and a paramedic, before an injury forced him to stop working.

He was known for his kindness and willingness to help anyone and everyone, and the guidance, wisdom, and advice that he offered to fellow medical personnel and students. He was also known for his sarcasm and a wicked, mischievous sense of humor that made us laugh until we cried! :-)

(Since June 2007, I've been a civilian role player for training exercises for police, the military, EMS, and search & rescue teams. More than once, we were (gently and teasingly) scolded for breaking character and being unable to stop laughing during a scenario, after something that Jamie said!)

After a short illness, he passed away very suddenly on January 26, 2014. He was only 32 years old, and left behind a fiancé and an 8-year-old son.

When I was trying to think of a name for the soldier caring for Jack in this chapter, _Jamie _was what came to mind. I thought it seemed like a fitting tribute.

..

Chapter 4

Jack's head was pounding painfully in time with his heartbeat. A groan escaped from between his clenched teeth.

"Jack? Agent Bauer? Can you hear me?" a man's quiet voice spoke up. "Are you with me?"

"Wha...?" He managed to force his left eye open the slightest bit, but immediately moaned and squeezed it shut again. "Ow. The light... my eyes... can you...?"

"Sure." There was a quiet click. "There, I dimmed the overhead light. Is that better? Can you open your eyes for me?"

Slowly, with effort, Jack opened his eyes and blinked.

"So you're awake again. Welcome back." A face appeared in his line of vision, hovering above him. The face belonged to a man who Jack guessed to be in his early thirties. His dark blond hair was cropped short, and he wore tan camouflage fatigues, with a red cross patch on his shoulder sleeve and a stethoscope looped around his neck.

"Where... am I…?"

"My name is Jamie. You're in the hospital on Balad base." Jack had a feeling that he'd answered that question at least once already.

"Balad... in Iraq?"

"Yep, that's right. It's only about an hour and a half flight from Badar in Kamistan to here. Welcome to Joint Base Balad in Iraq."

"How did I get here?"

"You were ambushed in Kamistan," Jamie told him grimly. "It seemed safer to get you out of the country, so you were flown out and brought here to Balad."

Jack frowned. There was something to remember, something important... but his head hurt too much to think clearly.

He closed his eyes again. The headache was getting more intense. Come to think of it... _everything_ hurt.

"Are you in pain, Jack?"

"Mmm," he muttered. "Yeah."

"What hurts?"

"Everything," Jack replied.

Jamie smiled slightly. "I bet. Is there anything in particular that's bothering you, though?"

Jack concentrated, trying to sort out the different painful parts of his body. "My whole right side. And my head's killing me." He gritted his teeth against the agonizing pounding in his skull.

Jamie noticed the sheen of sweat breaking out on his face. "Let me go get you something else for the pain. I'll be right back."

"Feel sick," Jack managed as his eyes flew open. He lurched upright, his face gray and eyes wide.

Jamie lunged to his side with a plastic basin and held it under his chin, just in time.

When the bout of retching and vomiting finally ended, he fell back against the pillows, trembling.

"Think you're done?" Jamie asked calmly. Jack nodded weakly. "Okay. Hang in there for a minute. I'm going to go get rid of this, and get some meds for you."

Jamie left the room, and returned a few minutes later with the now-clean basin and two syringes. Jack was lying still, his eyes closed and breathing ragged. "Hey, Jack, you still with me?"

"Uh-huh," he mumbled, not opening his eyes. "Hurts…"

"I know, I know. Just hang on. I've got a little something here to help you out." Jamie prepped the first syringe. "This will go into your IV line here... There's something to help you with the pain." He injected the second syringe's contents into the tubing. "And that will help with the nausea and vomiting."

Jack's ragged breathing eased slightly, and his eyes slowly opened. "Thank you."

"That will kick in soon. You should feel better once it does." Jamie discarded the two syringes.

"Now, let me tell you what all you have going on here, okay? I'll start from the top and work down. You've got some nice scrapes and abrasions on your head and face. You also have a concussion. With how dizzy, sleepy, and sick you feel, plus the awful headache, I think you probably could've guessed that one on your own."

Jack tried to nod, but winced and grimaced at the movement.

Jamie continued. "It looks like your right side took most of the hit. Your right shoulder was dislocated, and both your radius and ulna are fractured. Those are the two long bones between your elbow and wrist, here and here," he added, pointing to his own arm. "We reduced and relocated your shoulder, and set and casted your arm. That's why you have the sling."

Jack studied the white cast that covered his arm from elbow to fingers, and the black sling that cradled it against his chest.

"Your ribs are bruised, but nothing's broken, just very sore. Your legs ended up pinned under the car seat in front of you, so you have a lot of bruises and cuts. No broken bones there, either, but you have some deep bruises, and probably more than a few pulled or strained muscles. With your head injury, you're not going to feel like moving around for a while. Once you're clear and able to move, you'll be stiff and very sore, so you'll need to take it slow and careful for a little while."

Jamie studied him. "That was a lot of info. You still with me? Do you understand what I told you?"

Jack nodded slightly, being careful not to move his aching head too much. "Where am I?" he asked again, his eyes scanning the small room.

"You're in the hospital at Joint Base Balad, in Iraq," Jamie repeated patiently.

"What happened? How did I get here?"

"You were ambushed in Kamistan," Jamie said. "One of the members of the security team managed to send out a mayday call before he was killed. When help got there, they found you unconscious in the vehicle. You had been shielded and cushioned by the bodies of the other agents. The attack appeared to be well-coordinated. The powers that be decided it was better to be safe than sorry, and it seemed like a good idea to get you out of the country completely, so you were flown out of Kamistan and brought here to Balad. The flight from Badar in Kamistan to here is only about an hour and a half."

The word _bodies_ triggered a thought in Jack's mind. "The other agents with me. Where are they? How are they?"

Jamie hesitated. "Your attackers were armed, and they shot up both vehicles heavily with what looks like AK-47's. The two men in the car behind you were both killed; one died on impact in the crash, and the other was shot several times. The man in the car with you was killed. He broke his neck in the crash, and it looks like they shot his body at least twice. The woman is alive, so she was flown here with you. She has a number of injuries, including multiple gunshot wounds. She's in critical condition; it doesn't look good."

Jack's heart pounded. _Female agent..._ "Which one?" he asked. "What about Agent Walker?"

Jamie's brow furrowed. "Who?"

"Renee Walker," Jack repeated. "You said one female agent is alive. Which one? What about Renee? Where is she?"

Jamie frowned and shook his head. "I don't know what you mean. There was only one woman in the car with you. Laila Khouri."

"No!" Jack insisted. "There were two. Laila was there, yes, and so was Renee. Agent Renee Walker. She was in the back with me. Where is she? Is she alive?"

"Jack, listen to me. I don't know who you're talking about. One of Hassan's security agents managed to send out a mayday call before he was killed. When the team responded, they found you unconscious in the back seat. There were two agents in the car with you, one man and one woman. The only female agent there was Laila Khouri. She's here. No sign of anyone named Renee Walker."

Jack stared at him. "What do you mean?" He clutched Jamie's sleeve, pulling the man closer to him. "I swear to God, I'm not making this up. It's not some effect of the concussion. There were four agents in that car. Laila, Adnan, me, and Renee. She's my partner and my..." He paused, trying to think of a meaningful enough word to describe what she meant to him. _My girlfriend _wasn't right, and _my very good friend_ wasn't enough.

"Oh, God, are you telling me that Renee is missing?"

Jamie nodded slowly, concerned. "It looks like it," he said worriedly. "There was no one else there." He took a half step backwards as Jack abruptly tried to sit up. "Whoa. Lie still. What are you doing?"

Jack suddenly felt hot and cold all over, and his stomach churned. The room spun nauseatingly. "Sick again," he managed to choke out.

Jamie snatched up the basin and held it in front of him again. "Here, then, use this. You don't need to go anywhere."

"I can't be sick now," Jack said weakly. "Renee is out there somewhere... someone ambushed us and took her, and we don't know who or why... you're telling me that you don't know where she is..." He managed to roll to the edge of the bed, and tried to swing one leg onto the floor.

"Well, you're definitely not going to go running out of here to look for her," Jamie said firmly, pushing Jack backwards with a palm in the middle of his chest.

The movement was too much. Jack's head whirled, the room seemed to tilt, and his stomach lurched. This time, there was no basin to catch the mess. It landed on his chest, the bed sheets, and the tile floor.

Hot tears welled in his eyes. He clumsily and angrily swiped at them, and slammed his uninjured fist against the mattress in frustration.

"Jack, look at me." Jamie gripped his good shoulder and crouched down, bringing his face directly in front of Jack's. "Look at me. Listen. From one soldier to another. Now that you told me about Renee, now that we know she's out there somewhere, we'll look for her. She won't get left behind. You have my word," he said seriously. "But _you_ are not going anywhere. The concussion and your injuries are what are making you feel so weak. Rest, sleep, and meds are the only way to fix that. You need to rest so you can heal. So you can see Renee and introduce her to me," he said with a slight smile.

Jamie picked up another syringe from the bedside table. "I'm going to give you a very mild sedative. It'll help you relax so you can rest," he said gently. "Will you let me do that?" Jack bit his lip and nodded, reluctantly. "Okay. Here you go." Jamie attached the syringe to his IV line and administered the medication. He made eye contact with Jack as he took the empty syringe. "I am going to leave this room right now and go tell someone what you told me. We'll get you and the bed changed, clean up all this mess. And we'll put our heads together and figure out how to look for Renee."

The drug was already beginning to work in Jack's system. Jamie gently eased him down onto the side of the bed that wasn't splattered with vomit. Jack's eyelids drooped, and he reluctantly surrendered to the darkness.

_Renee._ Her face wavered before him, and he whispered her name before slipping into oblivion again.

..


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Renee woke to the sound of men's voices speaking Arabic. Their words were muffled, echoing, distorted by the ringing in her ears. She was too dazed and disoriented to focus on what they were saying.

The voices came closer. Now their attention was focused on her. She wasn't sure if she'd moved or made some sound, but something had alerted them to the fact that she was conscious.

Through half-closed eyes and blurred vision, she made out the shapes of three men surrounding her, hovering over her.

Hands gripped her arms and tugged, hauling her upright into an awkward sitting position. She moaned weakly. "What...? Who...?"

Without warning, fire erupted on her back as something tore into her flesh. She gasped at the sudden agony, and her quiet groan rose into a sharp cry of pain.

There was a cracking sound, immediately followed by another fiery burst of pain.

Renee clenched her jaw and gritted her teeth, forcing herself to remain stoic and silent, as they flogged her brutally. At some point, they let go of her arms and dropped her in a heap on the concrete floor. The whip lashed across her back again and again, tearing at her skin and drawing blood. Tears streamed down her cheeks, stinging the cuts on her face. Her body shook with silent sobs, but she bit her lip and refused to cry out again. She lay limp and motionless, feeling the warm stickiness of blood dripping down her back, waiting for the beating to come to an end.

Finally, the whip stilled.

She kept her eyes tightly closed, unwilling to look at her tormentors.

A rough, calloused hand ran over her cheek and down the side of her neck. Through a haze of pain and dizziness, she was vaguely aware of more hands roaming greedily over her body, pulling at her clothes, groping. Renee knew perfectly well what their intentions were, and the thought made her nauseous, but she was too dazed and weak to resist.

Now there was a new voice, loud, harsh, and angry.

The hands let go. Footsteps shuffled. A foot viciously struck her side, one last parting shot. Renee gasped in pain as she doubled over and curled into a ball, guarding her ribs from another blow.

A door slammed, and then it was quiet.

Hot tears covered Renee's face, pooling on the floor underneath her.

**/ / / / /**

She woke to pain.

Her back was on fire. The slightest movement brought an explosion of pain, as the torn fabric of her shirt rubbed against the shredded, bleeding skin. She swallowed a cry, but was unable to hold back a moan.

Slowly, hesitantly, she opened her eyes. This time, there was no response. She blinked a few times and carefully turned her head.

A man was standing in the corner, leaning against the wall, watching her.

_"Minu anta?" _Renee asked weakly in Arabic. "Who are you?"

"You're alive," he said in English. "Good. My name is Khalid."

"Where am I?"

He didn't answer that. "Are you thirsty?" She flinched uneasily as he crossed the room and crouched next to her. But instead of more abuse, he lifted her head and held a cup to her lips. "Here. Drink." Khalid pulled the cup back slightly, spilling some of the tepid water down her front, as Renee took a greedy gulp. "Slowly, or you'll be sick."

Too soon, the small cup was empty. It was enough to provide some relief, but not enough to completely quench her thirst. _"Shukran k'tir,"_ she said gratefully in Arabic. "Thank you very much." He nodded, stood, and retreated back against the wall again, placing the cup on the floor by the door.

Renee shifted position. Her battered body shrieked a painful protest, and she drew in a sharp breath, biting her lip. "They whipped you," Khalid informed her, as though she didn't already know.

She was still dressed, but her ripped clothes were barely providing adequate cover. Renee awkwardly tried to cover herself with her hands. "Did they… was I…?" She couldn't bring herself to say the word, in either English or Arabic. _Ightisab. _Rape.

_ "Laa." _Khalid shook his head no. "I stopped them before it came to that."

"Thank you," she said quietly, relieved.

"Don't thank me," he snapped. "I should have kept quiet and let them have you. I didn't do you any favors. It will probably be worse later."

Renee glanced around the small room, taking in the cracked concrete floor and grimy walls. "Where am I? What do you want with me?"

"_I _don't," he informed her. "I had nothing to do with this. I'm not the one in charge. They told me to watch you, so I am."

"Well, then, who _is_ in charge? What do they want? Why am I here?"

"Ask Sayid," he said, turning towards the door.

"Who's Sayid? Where are you going?"

"To get him." Khalid stepped through the door and quickly closed it behind him.

A few minutes later, the door swung open again, and a tall and imposing man stepped into the room. There was no sign of Khalid. The man was dressed in a black _shalwar kameez, _the comfortable outfit of a loose tunic shirt and pajama-like pants, and an olive-green _khaffiyeh_ scarf was wrapped loosely around his neck. His hair was slightly unruly, but his beard was neatly trimmed.

His steely gaze swept over Renee. "Hello, Agent Walker," he said in English.

"Who are you?" she demanded. "How do you know my name?"

"My name is Ahmad Sayid," he informed her.

"Where am I? Why am I here?"

"You're in Taji," he said.

Renee's heart skipped a beat. "Taji, or Tajar?" she asked hesitantly. Tajar was in Kamistan, two hours away from Badar. Taji was nearly six hours away, across the border in Iraq.

"Taji," he repeated. "Taji, Iraq."

"Iraq?" Renee repeated, barely above a whisper. How in the world would anyone find her now? She had been taken across the border into an entirely different country. They wouldn't even know where to begin looking.

Sayid's lips curved in a slight smile, knowing what she was thinking. "Yes, you're in Iraq. Welcome to my country."

"Some welcome," Renee spat angrily. "We were ambushed. I don't have any idea how I got here, or why I'm here. And your thugs beat me and tried to rape me, for God's sake." She was trembling. "What do you want?"

"Temper," Sayid mocked. "It wasn't hard at all to find you. The media covered President Hassan's return to Kamistan, and clearly showed you and Jack Bauer in the group of Americans who came to pay their respects, so we knew you were here. From there, it was a matter of putting resourceful people in the right places, tracking you down, and waiting for the trap to spring. And it did."

"So you and your people are the ones responsible for that ambush in Badar," Renee said. "Where is the rest of our team? Where's Jack?" She tried to keep her voice from cracking at the mention of Jack's name. "What did you do to them?"

"The four security agents are dead," Sayid informed her coolly. "As for Agent Bauer, they left him alive. At least, those were their instructions. I hope they did. His death would definitely complicate matters."

He pulled something from his pocket, and tossed it towards her. Renee picked up the folded piece of paper. It was a photograph of two young children, one boy and one girl, sitting on the lap of a woman who Renee assumed was their mother. "That is my brother's family. His wife and children."

"They're beautiful," Renee said quietly.

"Indeed," Sayid agreed. His tone hardened. "They also are fatherless, thanks to Agent Bauer. He was the one responsible for murdering Malik, taking my brother from me, leaving his wife a widow and his children without their father."

"I'm so sorry for their loss," Renee told him earnestly. She looked at the photo, then up at Sayid. "But what does that have to do with me?"

He crouched down in front of her. "It's quite simple, really. You and Agent Bauer mean a great deal to one another. You love him, he loves you. It's not hard to see that. Malik meant a lot to the people who loved him, as well. So, since Agent Bauer took someone important from us, let's just say that I am now returning the favor."

"So you're going to kill me, then?" It was more of a statement than a question, and this time Renee was unable to keep her voice from trembling slightly.

Sayid smiled. The expression sent a chill of fear coursing through Renee's body. "Yes. Not so fast, not right away. But yes. You both will pay for his crimes."

He stood over her, looking silently at her for a few moments. Then, abruptly, he turned and left, pulling the door closed behind him. A lock clicked.

Renee lay in the middle of the floor on her stomach, unwilling to move. Eventually, she fell into a fitful sleep.

..


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

The sound of metal scraping on concrete as the door opened made Renee lift her head. She slowly sat up, groaning in pain. A curse word in English escaped from between her clenched teeth. It wasn't sufficient, and the others that came to mind didn't seem adequate either. She muttered a few in Arabic.

Sayid chuckled. "Impressive Arabic vocabulary," he said, amused. "Are you in pain?"

Renee glared at him. _"Neek haalek, ibn sharmouta,"_ she snapped.

He clicked his tongue. "Such language. You certainly have a temper."

"Forgive me for not being polite," Renee said sarcastically. "But, you see…" She swept her arm in a gesture that included the grimy room and her battered body. _Careful, _she thought. _Don't antagonize him too much. _She angled her head to look up at him. "What do you want?"

Sayid pulled a cell phone from his jacket pocket and dialed a number. "It's time to make a phone call."

**/ / / / /**

Jack opened his eyes, startled, as he sensed someone standing over him. "Sorry, sir," the soldier at his bedside said quietly. "I was trying not to wake you up." He hung a fresh IV bag on the pole next to the bed.

"Former Special Forces and a federal agent. I'm a light sleeper," Jack replied.

The man chuckled. "Yes, sir. We all are. You learn to sleep anywhere and any time, and usually with one eye open. How do you feel?"

"Sort of like I got body-slammed by the Incredible Hulk. Or hit by a truck."

"Well, you were, remember?" Jamie said as he entered the room. He smiled as Jack acknowledged his attempt at humor with a smirk. "Seriously, now, how are you?"

"Dazed and out of it. Tired. Dizzy."

"That's normal," Jamie said, nodding. "You'll feel dizzy and very drowsy for a while. How's the pain? Nausea?"

Jack shrugged. "Under control. Comfortable enough." He changed the subject. "How is Laila? Is she…?"

"Alive," Jamie confirmed. "Unconscious. Still in critical condition. But for now, she's alive."

"And Renee?" Jamie could plainly hear and see the desperation in Jack's voice and face. "Anything?"

Jamie shook his head grimly. "Nothing yet. I'm sorry."

Suddenly, a cell phone rang. All three of them glanced around the room in surprise, looking for the source of the noise.

Jamie opened the cabinet next to the bed and pulled out a plastic bag containing Jack's watch, wallet, and phone. The screen was cracked, and there was a small streak of dried blood on one corner, but they could clearly hear it ringing.

_Who could be calling?_

"Give it to me," Jack said urgently, reaching for the phone. "Please." Jamie extracted it from the bag. Jack all but snatched it from his hand, fumbling and nearly dropping it as he brought it to his ear. "Hello?"

"Is this Jack Bauer?"

"Who is this?" Jack replied cautiously.

"Ah, Agent Bauer, you are alive. Good. My name is Ahmad Sayid."

Jack frowned. _What the...? _He gripped the phone tighter. "Who are you? How did you get this number?"

"We have our ways. I work with resourceful and creative people."

Jamie was watching Jack carefully. "Speaker?" he mouthed, motioning to the phone. Jack pressed the button and sat the phone down on the bed.

"I've waited a long time for this moment," the man said.

All three of them looked at the phone. "Who _are_ you?" Jack asked sharply. "What do you want?"

"I'll get to the point quickly." The phone beeped. "I've sent you a picture. Open it." Both Jamie and Jack leaned over to peer at the phone's small screen, studying the image of a woman with two young children in her lap. "That is my brother's family, Agent Bauer. I want to know how you feel about leaving them fatherless."

"What? I-I don't..."

"December 2006 in Fallujah, Iraq," Sayid said coldly. "His name is Malik. Do you remember now? You were the one who killed him. You left his wife a widow and his children without their father."

Jack nodded. "Yes. I remember." He ran a hand over his face. "I'm a counter-terrorism agent for the United States government, Mr. Sayid. Eliminating threats against our people is what I do. 2006 and 2007 were the deadliest years for the American military in Iraq. Your brother Malik was directly responsible for a lot of those deaths. My goal was to prevent more innocent people from losing their lives."

"Very noble of you," Sayid said. "But the fact is you did still leave a family grieving and fatherless."

"It wasn't my intention to hurt his family. I'm truly sorry for that," Jack said earnestly. His tone hardened. "But my team killed Malik to prevent more Americans from losing their lives. He was a fairly high-ranking member of the IAI, Islamic Army in Iraq. That was _his_ doing. His family suffers because of _his_ actions."

"Say what you want. I can see that you're deluding yourself about the role that you played in this. I should have expected that."

Jack's jaw clenched. "What do you want with me?"

The phone beeped again. Jack leaned over to study the image that had appeared on the screen, and his blood ran cold. It was a picture of Renee. She was sitting in a nondescript room, huddled on a concrete floor. Her jaw was bruised, one eye was puffy and swollen, and there was dried blood on her lower lip. Her clothes were torn, and the back of her shirt was shredded and streaked with blood. Jack could see what looked like deep bloody welts from a whip crisscrossing her back.

"You bastard," he growled. "What did you do to her?"

Then she spoke up. "Jack?" Her voice was weak, hoarse.

"Renee!" he gasped. "Oh, God, I… How are you?"

"I'm alive," she said. "I'm okay."

That was obviously a lie. The picture from Sayid told the real story, and Jack could plainly hear the pain in Renee's voice. They had been ambushed, almost all of their security escorts were dead and one was clinging to life, and Renee had been kidnapped and beaten. She was injured and in pain. The thought filled Jack with blinding rage.

"You're holding an American citizen against her will, in a country where members of the American military are actively involved in combat operations," he said. "Do you really think that will end well?"

Sayid chuckled. "They may be, but this is my homeland, my turf."

"Why Renee? What do you want with her?"

"Are you familiar with the concept of _Qisas?"_ Sayid asked. "Retaliation. An eye for an eye, if you will."

Jack paused. _Damn concussion, _he thought irritably. "Yes, I know what it is," he said after a few moments. _"Qisas _means the family and heirs of a victim have the right to demand the execution of the offender. That would be me. Renee isn't the one who killed your brother. Why would you take her?"

"Ah, very good. You're familiar with Islamic law. Or at least this portion of it." Sayid sounded surprised. "Killing you would be satisfying, yes, but still not enough. Malik meant a lot to us, and we are now living without him. Since you took someone important from us, I think it is only fair to do the same. Let's say that I am returning the favor."

Jamie had been leaning against the side of the bed, listening to the conversation, and intently watching Jack's face and the monitors next to the bed. He started to speak, but Jack immediately shook his head and motioned to the phone. Letting Sayid know that there were others listening to their conversation did not seem wise.

"I want to talk to Renee," Jack said, deliberately keeping his tone even.

"You've heard from her. That's enough for now."

There was a click, then silence as Sayid ended the call.

..

**Author's Notes:**

**Qisas and Diyat:**Islamic law provides two options for someone who is guilty of committing harm or murder. _Qisas_ allows for the offender to be injured or killed, in the same (or similar) way as their victim. And _diyat_ is "blood money", compensation paid by the offender to the victim's family. Of course, forgiveness of the act is also a third option.

**Arabic translation:**Renee calls Sayid a "son of a bitch" (actually, literally, "son of a whore"). Arabic has a lot of very colorful insults and swear words. A lot of them have to do with poop and/or vulgar references to male and female body parts. There's your language lesson for the day - I would strongly suggest NOT using these words to demonstrate your language knowledge. ;-)  
>When I wrote and posted my story "No Safe Place", a lot of my readers commented that they enjoyed the little factual tidbits that I shared at the beginning and end of some chapters. Well, here's another one! Most of those had to do with terrorism and criminology. Can't say that I ever thought I'd write an author's note about Arabic swear words! :-)<p>

..


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Renee watched Sayid as he ended the phone call. _I'm okay. _She knew Jack hadn't believed that. The truth was that she was far from it; she was hungry, thirsty, and in pain, and knew it was probably evident in her voice.

_Okay_ was not a word that accurately described either of them, she thought. Jack was injured too; she'd heard the pain in his voice. The difference was that he was receiving medical care, and she was in the custody of a madman who was apparently hell-bent on exacting revenge.

Renee's stomach chose that moment to growl loudly. Sayid's lips curved in a slight smile. "Are you hungry?"

"Yes," she said earnestly.

She had no idea how long it had been since she'd eaten. Khalid had brought her a few small cups of water, but no food yet. The water was never enough to quench her thirst. Her empty stomach had stopped complaining, and the hunger pangs had settled into a dull ache and empty feeling. Her mouth was dry and parched, and her lips were chapped. The room was windowless, so there was no way to mark the passing of time. A few times, she'd been able to faintly hear the _Adhan _echoing from a mosque to call Muslims to their five times of daily prayer, but she couldn't make out the words. Had she been here for hours? Days?

"Fine." Sayid stepped around her and left the room.

Renee stared at the closed door. _Fine? _What did that mean? _Fine, I'm enjoying your suffering and will let you keep waiting?_ Or _fine, I guess I'll feed you so you don't starve to death before I decide it's time to kill you?_

She lay on her side, looking up at the single bare light bulb on the ceiling. The bulb dangled from a frayed wire that protruded from a hole in the ceiling, directly in the middle of the room. The light flickered every so often, but so far it had stayed on. Renee prayed that it would last. This tiny room was monotonous, but at least it was lit. Being left alone in silence and total darkness would be unbearable.

A lock clicked and the door was pulled open. Renee sat up slightly as Khalid stepped into the room. She didn't see anything in his hands; no indication that he'd brought her any food or water.

She licked her chapped lips. "Please… can I have some water?"

Khalid opened the door and reached for something in the hallway. He crossed the room again, carrying a cup of water, and placed it on the floor within her reach.

She carefully picked up the cup and brought it to her lips, trying not to spill a single precious drop.

He waited until she had finished drinking, took the cup back, and asked, "Are you hungry?"

"Yes. Very."

"I thought so." Khalid stepped into the hallway again. When he returned this time, he was carrying a plate and spoon. "Here."

Renee took it. It was a lightweight metal plate, like something from a rucksack or mess kit. There was a half piece of pita flatbread, some rice, and a small bowl of what was known as "Arabic salad" – finely chopped tomatoes, cucumbers, and onions, mixed with spices and olive oil.

"Thank you," she said gratefully. "I can't remember how long it's been since I ate." She glanced up at him. "I've completely lost track of time. How long have I been here?"

"A day and a half," Khalid informed her. "Almost two."

She wolfed down the first few bites, before forcing herself to slow down and eat politely – as politely as one could when they were this hungry. There wasn't much on the plate. It was disappearing too quickly, and she was still far from full.

Khalid watched as she ate, alternating between using the spoon and tearing strips of the pita bread to scoop up the rice and salad. "You like it?" he asked.

Renee nodded. "I do," she said between bites. "I was very hungry."

She tore off another piece of the pita. "Did you know that a tortilla is sort of like pita, but thinner? So are pancakes and crepes," she said casually. "Have you ever eaten any of those?" Khalid didn't respond. "Have you ever been out of Iraq?"

He shook his head no. "I would like to, some day."

"Where would you go?"

"Jordan or Turkey, maybe," he said.

Renee took another bite of rice.

"Who is Jack Bauer?" Khalid asked suddenly. Startled, Renee looked up from her food. "You mumbled his name a few times when you were brought in here, and I've heard Sayid talking. Your husband?"

Renee shook her head. "No, we're not married. He's my partner; we work together. He is…" She paused. "A good friend."

"Your _habibi?"_ Khalid arched an eyebrow, smiling.

Renee laughed. He'd used an affectionate Arabic term for _sweetheart. _"He's a very good friend." That didn't adequately describe what Jack meant to her. "Why are you asking?"

"Because I know Sayid took you to use against Jack, and I wondered why," Khalid said. "You two are important to each other. You love him?"

"Yes," Renee said quietly. "I do." Khalid smiled at that.

That was explanation enough, Renee thought. She didn't dare mention the brief intimate moments they'd shared – a caress here, a brief kiss there. Under Islamic religious law, that would be _zina,_ unlawful sexual relations. She had no desire to open that can of worms and give them another reason to torment her.

"What about you? Do you have a girlfriend? A wife?"

Khalid nodded. "A wife. And a daughter." His response came slowly, as though he were cautiously calculating just how much he wanted to reveal.

Renee smiled. "How old is she?"

"She's four years old. Her name is Amal." Khalid reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a folded photograph.

"Arabic for _hope. _That's a pretty name." Renee leaned over to look at the picture. "Oh, she's beautiful."

Someone had carefully brushed the little girl's hair, braided it, and clipped a pink barrette in it. She was grinning at the camera, but there were large, dark circles under her eyes. Her face was pale, and lips and fingertips had a dusky blue-gray tinge.

Khalid's expression darkened. "She's sick. Her heart."

"Can she have surgery?"

He shook his head grimly. "Not in Iraq. Hospitals here are _mu zien, _not so good. The hospitals in Kurdish territory, up north, are better. They could maybe do it. But they are very crowded, too full. For surgery like this, she needs to go to Jordan or Turkey. Sayid pays me well for working for him, and we save everything we can, but we don't have the money for that. And even if the money was there, we haven't been able to get travel documents."

Money flowed steadily between terrorist organizations to finance their operations, Renee thought. Khalid was likely connected to some of those organizations, either directly, or indirectly through his work for Sayid. But none of those funds would go to help a loyal, devoted man save his dying daughter.

"Does Sayid know?" Renee asked.

Khalid nodded. "He knows. He's been able to help me get medicine for her a few times. But he can only do so much."

His expression changed and he stopped talking, as though he'd said too much. The conversation came to an abrupt end.

Renee used the last bit of the pita to scoop up the final few remaining grains of rice and a single stray piece of cucumber. When she finished, Khalid took the plate and spoon from her. _"Shukran," _she said quietly in Arabic.

He nodded. "You're welcome."

Renee had become aware of another matter that needed attention. She turned her head towards the pail that had been placed in the opposite corner of the room – it didn't deserve to be called a toilet.

Her body was stiff from lying on the hard concrete floor, and her wounds throbbed. It took effort, and was a slow and awkward process, as she rolled onto one side and tried to push herself up on her knees. She flinched in pain as her swollen and bruised left ankle touched the floor.

"_Ana ajooz amra'a,"_ she muttered. "I move like an old woman."

She thought she heard a quiet chuckle from Khalid. The hint of a smile tugged at his lips. "Here," he said, coming alongside her. Awkwardly, he supported her as she hobbled over to the bucket in the corner.

"Thank you," she said in English. Khalid nodded as he turned away and walked across the small room to give her some privacy. When she finished, he came back to help her move again.

Hardly aware of what she was doing, fueled by desperation, Renee lunged. One arm wrapped around his neck in a choke hold, and her right leg shot out to hook around his leg and pull him off balance.

Stunned and surprised, Khalid gasped and struggled. His fingernails dug into her arm, trying to loosen her grip around his neck.

Renee had extensive training, desperation, and adrenaline on her side. For several frantic moments, it looked like she had the upper hand. But in her weakened injured state, he was stronger. He lurched backwards, driving an elbow into her side and knocking her against the wall. The sudden sharp pain in her back and side made her cry out, and threw her off balance enough for Khalid to make his move. He twisted out of her choke hold and spun around to face her. His fist struck her jaw hard, making her head snap back. His shove sent her stumbling backwards, and she crashed down to the floor.

She landed hard on her back, and nearly passed out from the sudden pain. Raw whip wounds combined with a hard fall equaled fiery agony. Tears welled in her eyes, and Renee was unable to hold back a scream.

Now Khalid had a pistol in his hand. He knelt over her and jammed the barrel of the gun against her temple. "You had to try once, I suppose," he said. "No real harm done, so I won't tell Sayid. But if you try anything like that again, I swear I'll kill you myself! Understand?"

Still reeling from the pain, she could only gasp and nod wordlessly.

"Good." Khalid stood up again and tucked the gun back into the waistband of his pants. He glared down at her, then turned and stalked out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

..

**Author's note:**

An answer to a question that some people have asked about Jack and Renee's relationship.

Yes, they did sleep together in New York. Sometime between the end of that day and when they left on this trip to Kamistan, I guess. :-) In my mind, they also shared some moments in between Season 7 and Season 8 - not necessarily sleeping together, but at least getting to know one another better. I know that time was spent with Jack recovering from the CJD infection and his transplant, but they had to have spent at least SOME time together. There was definitely chemistry there between the two of them. :-)

Renee tells Khalid that Jack is a good friend and she loves him. She doesn't mention the sleeping together/physically intimate part of the relationship, though. Iraq is a Muslim country, and Sayid and his people are Muslim, most likely extremists. Not all Muslims strictly follow the religious _Shar'ia_ law, but extremist groups (like Al Qaeda) do. Under Islamic religious law, Jack and Renee's relationship would be called _"zina"_, which is "unlawful sexual relations" between two unmarried people. That's a crime, and the punishment can be anything from flogging/beating, to death by stoning. Obviously, Renee doesn't need to give them any other reason to torment her!

.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Army Staff Sergeant Caitlin Gibson hung a fresh IV bag on the pole next to the bed and attached it to the line running into Laila Khouri's right arm.

She studied the readings on the glowing monitor screens and nodded, satisfied. It had been an incredibly tense few days, but Laila had slowly become more stable.

Caitlin carefully pulled the blankets down to expose the gauze and tape on her chest and abdomen.

She paused in her inspection of the wound dressings. _What was that?_ Out of the corner of her eye, it had looked like the woman's fingers had moved ever so slightly. Caitlin gently placed her hand on top of Laila's. "Can you hear me?" she asked, first in English, then in Arabic. "Can you squeeze my fingers?" There it was, ever so faint, the slightest pressure against two of her fingers.

Caitlin smiled as she saw Laila's eyelids fluttering. "There you go," she encouraged. "Can you try to open your eyes for me?"

She kept an eye on the vital signs displaying on the monitor, watching for any sign that this was too much stimulation.

Laila's eyes opened ever so slightly, fluttered closed again, then opened wider. She blinked slowly, staring at Caitlin. Her eyes were glassy and slightly unfocused.

Her right hand moved, lifting, searching. Caitlin gently grabbed it as Laila reached towards the ventilator tube protruding from her mouth and the strips of tape holding it in place. "No, I need you to leave that alone."

The woman's lips moved as she tried to mouth something around the tube. Caitlin leaned closer. "What? Can you say it again?"

More slow and groggy blinking. _"Who?"_ Laila mouthed silently.

"My name is Caitlin. You're in Iraq, in the hospital on Joint Base Balad, under the care of the US military. You're safe."

Laila nodded ever so slightly.

Her hand drifted towards the ventilator tube, then back to her side. _"What?"_

"You have a tube in your mouth, down your throat, to help you breathe," Caitlin told her. "A machine is breathing for you right now. We'll remove it once you're stronger and doing better."

Another nod.

"You were very badly injured," Caitlin said carefully, watching her face for a reaction. "You've been unconscious since you were brought in here. It's very good to see you awake."

Laila's heart rate increased slightly on the monitor. Forming full sentences took far too much mental and physical effort, so she settled for saying, _"Kamistan. Attack. Explosion."_ A long pause, then she slowly added, _"Others okay?"_

An assortment of strong medications were dripping through her IV line. Even as she spoke, Caitlin could see her eyelids drooping and her body relaxing. "Looks like you're drifting off again," she said with a small smile. "I think that's enough for now. I didn't expect you to be so alert, so soon." She gently patted Laila's arm and made eye contact with her. "Your body needs to rest. Go back to sleep for now. I promise, someone will answer your questions when you wake up."

Laila didn't resist. Her eyes slowly closed and she drifted back into a drug-induced slumber.

..


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Renee sighed as she shifted position on the floor, trying to find a position that was slightly more comfortable.

The effort was futile.

Lying on her back was impossible, thanks to the deep wounds and shredded skin. The torn fabric of her shirt stuck to the wounds, adhered by dried blood, and any movement brought fresh pain and more oozing blood.

That left her stomach and sides as the only options. The constant, persistent pain in her ribs on the right side didn't help. The concrete floor was hard, pressing uncomfortably against her body, and she could only lie on one side for so long before it began to ache. Then it would be time to slowly and awkwardly roll over to the other side, or onto her stomach – movements which caused even more pain.

Groaning, Renee pushed herself upright into a sitting position, then tried to stand. As she rose up on her knees, a wave of dizziness knocked her off balance. The room lurched. She closed her eyes and sank back down to the floor. _What's this? _Was her body reacting to the lack of food and water? Had they drugged her somehow?

Tentatively, she tried to sit up again. The dizziness was still present, but at least she didn't feel like she was going to suddenly fall flat on her face.

Relieved, she slowly got to her feet. Keeping one hand on the wall for balance, Renee hobbled over to the bucket in the corner. Mercifully, she managed to use it and clean herself up without losing her balance and falling over.

A flash of color caught her eye. Two blankets had been dropped in a heap on the floor, pushed against the wall. They were thin and worn, but even that would be a small comfort.

She wondered who had brought them. Certainly not Sayid, unless it was part of the twisted mind games that he was playing with her.

As she shook out the blankets, something hit the floor with a muffled thump. Renee pawed through the fabric until her fingers closed around a small, soft, oddly shaped object. It was a cloth doll, apparently handmade, small enough to lie in her open hand. The tiny doll was wearing a pale blue dress, and her head was draped with a black scarf. Under it, yarn hair was woven into two neat braids.

Judging by the dust and blanket fuzz clinging to it, the little doll had been tangled up in the blanket for some time.

Renee fingered the edge of the doll's scarf as she looked back and forth between the toy and the blankets. Khalid had a daughter. Was he the one who had brought them? Did the doll belong to her?

Smiling slightly, Renee tucked the little doll into her pocket. At least it would be something to look at to break the monotony.

She folded one blanket into a thin pallet, and bunched the remaining one up to form a makeshift pillow. _It's practically as hard as the floor… just fuzzy… sort of like sitting on a really hard peach. _

She breathed a slight laugh and shook her head. _Where did _that _come from? Captivity and isolation are really messing with my mind._

Suddenly, a faint _pop_ came from the light bulb overhead. It abruptly went out, plunging the room into total darkness.

A startled yelp escaped Renee's lips. There was a tiny line of light filtering in under the bottom of the door, coming from the hallway outside, so at least she had a vague idea of where the door was. Other than that, the room was pitch black and silent.

_Calm down, Renee. It's just dark. Since when are you scared of the dark? _The only sound was her heartbeat pounding in her ears. _Since now,_ she thought desperately. _Sitting in the dark, alone, in a tiny little room, in captivity in Iraq._

**/ / / / /**

Renee had no idea how much time had passed when she heard someone approaching the door. Then came the sound of metal scraping on concrete as the door was pushed open.

"What the…?" a male voice muttered in English.

She sat up, startled. That wasn't Khalid's voice. "The light went out," she said.

"I can see that," the man replied. Renee heard footsteps as he moved farther into the room. "Damn, it's dark in here."

She snorted. _Tell me about it. _

Suddenly, a beam of light flared to life. "That's better." The man was holding a small tactical flashlight. Renee squinted and held up a hand to shield her eyes when the light pointed in her direction. She could only imagine what she must look like, especially when lit up by a single flashlight beam in a dark room.

"Where's Khalid?" she asked hesitantly. "Who are you?"

"Khalid isn't here," the man informed her. "His daughter's sick; he's taking care of her. Sayid decided to have me bring you some food instead of letting you go hungry."

He bent down and placed the little flashlight on the floor, standing it up on its tail to cast light around the room. Even that shadowy, dim glow was better than total darkness. Gratefully, Renee moved closer to the light.

She cocked her head. "Your accent… you're American, aren't you? What's your name?"

"Not important," he said curtly. "Don't ask so many questions. You want to eat or not?"

"Yes, please."

"Thought so." The man ducked out of the room, then returned carrying a plate. "Here."

Renee glanced up at him. He was tall, well-built, and had auburn hair, hazel eyes, and a small crescent-shaped scar under his left eye. She nearly dropped the plate in shock and surprise. "You're… I know you. My God. You're Matthew Reed."

He stiffened and drew back, startled. "How do you know that?"

"I've seen your picture. So have a whole lot of other people. A member of the American military disappeared into thin air during combat operations in a foreign country. That's significant, you know," Renee said dryly. "You've been missing for almost four years. You disappeared during an ambush and firefight in Fallujah. They thought you'd been killed. Or, since no remains were found, seized and taken captive by the enemy. Your status is listed as 'Missing/Captured.' "

"Captured? No, no." He breathed a harsh laugh. "Disappeared into thin air, huh? Like a ghost. Appropriate, considering that Matthew Reed is dead. My wife and little boy died, and that part of me died with them."

"So the part of you that's left is a deserter, then? You decided to turn your back on your brothers in arms."

Matthew Reed shook his head vehemently. "I'm _not_ a deserter," he said sharply. "I don't turn my back on causes that I believe in. Life is too short to spend it supporting lies and misguided ideas."

"So you had a sudden enlightening, and decided to convert to Islam and join the ranks of radical terrorist groups?" Renee raised an eyebrow. "Like Adam Gadahn, John Walker Lindh, and Ryan Anderson?"

Reed snorted scornfully. "Please. Anderson screwed up; couldn't even manage to desert his unit before he got arrested, let alone actually accomplish any of his plans. Gadahn is a media puppet, not a soldier. He's Al Qaeda's video producer and spokesman. He's never fought in battle. Lindh _was_ a fighter, but surrendered to the Afghan ANA, then got himself shot and captured by US forces during a prison breakout. No, I'm not like any of them at all." He shook his head. "The other difference is that I didn't convert to Islam. I'm not a radical fundamentalist fighting for religion."

"What _are_ you fighting for, then? A mercenary without a cause, working for whoever will pay you?"

He scowled. "I came to bring you food, not explain myself to you. If you're not going to eat, I'll take that and leave."

Renee shook her head. "No, no, I'll eat it." She turned her attention to the plate. It held a torn chunk of pita, hummus drizzled with olive oil, and a few slices of tomato and cucumber.

Reed leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms, standing silently, watching her eat. When she finished, he took the empty plate and handed her a cup of water.

"Thank you."

He nodded curtly, not saying anything, and turned to leave.

"Wait," Renee said as he moved to pick up the flashlight. "Can… can you leave that here? Please?"

"Why? Scared of the dark?"

"Normally, no. Alone in a windowless room, being held captive somewhere in Iraq, yes," she shot back.

"Fair enough," he agreed. "Fine. I'll leave it."

**/ / / / / **

Matthew Reed hurried down the hallway, his mind racing. He rounded a corner, and nearly collided with Sayid.

"Did you take the food to Agent Walker?" Sayid asked.

"Yes. She was hungry."

He shrugged. "She's not going to starve to death."

Reed gripped his arm. "She knows me," he blurted. "She called me by name. When I came in, she recognized my accent and asked if I was American. Then when I handed her the food, she looked at me and said, 'I know you. You're Matthew Reed.' " He struggled to keep his voice down. "If word gets out, there'll be all sorts of people coming after me."

Sayid shrugged again, unconcerned.

"No one knows you're here. As far as the government knows, you're either being held captive somewhere, or your body is rotting in a shallow grave in the desert," he said. "Agent Walker won't be a problem." He scoffed. "How would word get out? Who is she going to tell? She won't be able to escape, and if by some miracle she did, she wouldn't get far."

He met Reed's gaze. "There won't be a problem. Soon enough, she'll be dead."

..


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Renee wearily ran a hand over her face. Alone in the dark, there wasn't much else to do but sleep. No one had replaced the light bulb. Apparently, they were content to let her sit in darkness until she lost her mind.

Groggily, she sat up and reached for the flashlight that Reed had left. The room swayed and lurched as she moved. She squeezed her eyes shut and dug her fingernails into the blanket on the floor, waiting for the dizziness to subside. The wounds on her back burned and throbbed, and her body ached. The dizziness was almost constant, and her head felt oddly heavy and muddled.

She clicked the flashlight on, sighing with relief. With no idea how long the batteries would last, Renee tried to use the light sparingly. Each time, turning it off and letting the darkness close in around her again filled her with dread.

At the sound of footsteps in the hallway, Renee quickly turned off the little flashlight and stuffed it into her pocket.

The door screeched open. Sayid stood in the doorway, his face harsh and his mouth set in a firm line. "Get up," he ordered in English.

Before Renee could move, two more men appeared behind Sayid in the doorway. Their faces were concealed behind black ski masks. She stared at them, frozen, unable to move. _Oh, God, what is this?_

Sayid jerked his chin towards her. The men burst into the room and grabbed her roughly, each seizing an arm.

Renee cried out in pain as they yanked her to her feet. "Please! You're hurting me!" she gasped.

"Walk," the one on her left snapped. They didn't loosen their grip or slow their pace. Renee stumbled, trying to place one foot in front of the other, as they dragged her out of the room and down the hallway. Pain blazed through her shoulders and arms from the rough handling. She groaned through clenched teeth.

The room that they entered was just as dingy and grimy as the one that she was being held in. The only difference was that this one had a window in one wall. After sitting in darkness, the harsh lights overhead and the sunlight filtering in the window were nearly blinding. Renee squinted as her eyes watered. She closed her eyes against the glare, lifted her head, and let the pleasant warmth wash over her.

They turned her away from the window, lifting her so her feet came off the ground as they pulled her across the room.

Sayid watched her. "Are you frightened of me?" he asked in English. She didn't answer. He smiled, that cold, creepy smile that sent a chill down her spine. "Indeed. As you should be."

A third man stepped into the room. Renee felt the blood drain from her face. Her heart flew into her throat as terror struck deep, making her light-headed. In his right hand, he carried a large knife with a wicked-looking blade.

She lifted her gaze to meet Sayid's. "What is this?" she asked desperately in Arabic. "What are you doing?"

"Kneel down," the man on her right barked.

"_No!" _The sound was somewhere between a growl and a yell. Renee lashed out, fighting as hard as she could in her weakened state. She flung her head back, hitting him in the face. He staggered and lurched, pulling her backwards. Her uninjured right leg came off of the ground, and Renee seized the opportunity and kicked hard. She heard a thump and a grunt as her foot made contact. Both of the men were losing their grip on her arms, and Renee felt herself sliding towards the floor.

A fist crashed into the side of her face. Pain exploded in her skull as black streaks erupted in her field of vision. She sagged, fighting against a wave of nausea and dizziness.

They shoved down hard on her shoulders, forcing her to her knees on the floor.

The man with the knife grabbed a fistful of Renee's hair and yanked her head back. "Please," she choked out as he held the blade against her neck. "Please, don't do this."

So it had come to this, she thought grimly. She'd been reduced to pitiful pleading and waiting. Her head was throbbing, and dizziness made the room spin around her. She swallowed hard, fighting the rising nausea. The two men clutched her arms in an iron grip, their fingernails digging into her skin. The knife was pressed tightly against her neck. It would only take one movement from the hand that held it, and she'd be dead.

_I don't want to die,_ she thought frantically. _Not now, not here, not like this!_

She watched numbly as Sayid pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed a number.

**/ / / / /**

Jack tugged at the sleeve of the gray sweatshirt that he'd been given. It was too big, but nothing else fit over the cast on his arm. His clothes had disappeared somewhere between the ambush scene in Kamistan and one of the treatment bays here at Balad. They had found replacements for him – a pair of hospital scrub pants, an olive green t-shirt, and a gray sweatshirt with "ARMY" printed across the front in large letters.

He reached the end of the hallway and stopped, leaning against the wall.

"Nice to see you on your feet," Jamie said from behind him.

Before Jack could answer, he was interrupted by something striking the side of his head and glancing off of his ear. Startled, he turned around and spotted a small paper airplane on the floor by his feet. A second airplane sailed through the air, crashed into the wall, and dropped to the floor.

A child giggled. Jack stared at the unexpected sight: a tall, broad-shouldered man in camouflage fatigues with US Air Force insignia, standing behind an Iraqi boy leaning on a pair of crutches. The child didn't look any older than five or six years old. His face and arms were dotted with cuts and shrapnel wounds, and his right foot and lower leg were heavily bandaged.

"Most of our patients are American and coalition personnel, but we treat Iraqis too," Jamie said. "Iraqi hospitals have improved, but they can't provide the level of care that we can here. Most of our civilian patients have burns or IED blast injuries. We also treat insurgents when they're brought in by Americans or Iraqi police. They're blindfolded so they can't identify anything or anyone here." Jack raised an eyebrow. "Our mission here is to rebuild and stabilize the country, and medical care is one way to do that. Anyone who comes through these doors is a patient and is treated equally, no matter who they are."

Jack watched the pair.

"I won," the airman declared, playfully raising his arms in a triumphant gesture. He pointed to the plane that had crashed into the wall. "Mine went farther."

The little boy grinned, his eyes dancing with laughter. "Mine," he said in accented English, pointing to the second plane on the floor. He tapped his own head, pantomiming the plane hitting Jack, and burst into giggles. "Sorry, mister."

Jack gave him a thumbs-up. "It's okay. I'm okay." He leaned over to pick up the paper airplane, and nearly toppled over as his head reeled. "Oh, bad idea."

Jamie grabbed his arm as he closed his eyes against the sudden dizziness. "Whoa, easy. You okay?"

Jack nodded as he grabbed the airplane from the floor and slowly straightened up again. "Damn concussion," he muttered irritably. "Thanks." Jamie let go, but took a few steps closer.

Upright again, Jack adjusted his grip on the plane and pitched it towards the little boy. "Here," he said with a smile. It glided through the air for a short distance, then dropped to the floor and skidded to a stop next to one of his crutches.

The child picked up the plane. "Again!" he requested, grinning.

The airman chuckled. "Okay. Let's go back this way." He motioned to the other end of the hallway. _"Yallah."_

The boy had evidently figured out how to navigate on crutches. He raced down the hallway, reached the end, and stopped to look over his shoulder. _"Yallah!" _he called out, beckoning with one hand. The word meant "let's go", but in this case, his tone clearly implied, "Come on, hurry up!" Laughing, the man retrieved the second paper airplane and followed him.

Jack watched them go.

"Looks like that little guy has the lieutenant wrapped around his finger," a female voice said behind them.

Jamie grinned. "Hey, paper airplane races are a perfectly valid form of physical therapy."

The young woman chuckled. Jack glanced at the name patch on the pocket of her uniform jacket. "Sergeant Gibson. You're taking care of Laila Khouri, aren't you? How is she?"

"Call me Caitlin," she said. "And yes, I am. She's becoming more stable. Still intubated, but I think we may try to extubate and transition her to an oxygen mask tomorrow."

"Has she been able to say anything about the ambush in Kamistan?" Jack asked hopefully.

Caitlin shook her head. "Not yet. We have her on some sedative medications, to keep her pain under control and make her more comfortable until the breathing tube is removed. She's opened her eyes and mouthed words a few times, but she's still pretty out of it. She did mention the attack once, and asked about you and the others, but she wasn't in any condition to hear my answer."

Jack sighed.

Caitlin met his gaze. "Trust me, Agent Bauer, we know what's at stake here. As soon as Laila is coherent and able to respond, we'll debrief her and see if she can tell us anything else about what happened."

As she walked away, Jamie motioned to two folding chairs that had been placed against one wall. "Want to sit for a minute?" Jack nodded, gratefully lowering himself onto one of the chairs. Instead of sitting in the second one, Jamie leaned back against the wall.

The phone in Jack's sweatshirt pocket rang suddenly, startling them both. "This is Bauer," he answered.

"Hello, Agent Bauer. You recognize my voice, I think."

_Of course I do, _Jack thought. "Sayid," he acknowledged.

"I'll get to the point," Sayid said simply. The phone chimed. "Look at the photo that I just sent you."

Jack pulled the phone away from his ear, and Jamie leaned over to see the image on the screen. It was a picture of Renee, on her knees and being held between two masked men, with a knife pressed against her throat.

Jack felt the blood drain from his face. The fact that he was already sitting in a chair was the only thing that kept him from collapsing. Jamie gripped his shoulder. With trembling fingers, Jack pressed the speaker button on the phone and sat it on the chair.

"I want to talk to Renee," he managed. "Let me hear her voice."

"Fair enough," Sayid agreed. There was a scuffling sound. "Say hello."

"Jack?" Renee's voice sounded choked and strained. "Jack, they have…."

"I know. I can see the photo. Why are you doing this?" Jack demanded, addressing Sayid. "What do you want?"

"There are eight prisoners in US custody who I want released."

Jack shook his head incredulously. "What? What makes you think I can do that? A decision like that would come from government officials who are much higher up the chain. Neither Renee or I have any authority to make that happen."

"_You _may not have that authority, but you know the people who do."

Jack ran a hand through his hair. "I…"

A sudden yelp came from Renee.

"Renee!" Jack called sharply. There was no answer. "What did you do to her?"

"I'm here," she managed. "The one holding the knife… he cut me."

"Enough to get your attention," Sayid said. "Relax, Agent Bauer. She's bleeding, but it won't kill her." He paused. "Do you know what cats like to do to their prey? They play with injured mice. You know, maiming them, watching them suffer, taunting them as they try to get away, and then finally, mercifully, killing them."

Jack gritted his teeth, seething. "You sick son of a bitch."

Sayid didn't acknowledge that. "You have seventy-two hours to make negotiations."

With that, the line went dead.

To Jamie, Jack looked like he was about to cry, throw up, or faint – or all three. He sagged, burying his head in his hands. "Oh, God."

"We have people working on trying to trace Sayid's calls," Jamie said. "Our military knows he has Renee, and they're doing everything they can to find and retrieve her."

"If somebody would equip me with weapons, I'd go out and look for her myself," Jack replied.

**/ / / / /**

Back in her room, Renee leaned against the wall. Now the gash on her neck was throbbing along with the mess on her back.

While she had been out, someone had apparently decided to take the time to replace the light bulb on the ceiling. This one was dimmer than the first, and flickered eerily every so often. Even that was better than no light at all. She prayed this bulb would stay lit. The thought of being plunged back into darkness was nearly unbearable.

Her heart was pounding, and each breath seemed to require twice as much effort. She couldn't tell whether the feeling was from her physical condition or from terror.

A lock clicked, and the door was pulled open. Renee weakly lifted her head. Khalid stood in the doorway, looking at her silently. His gaze traveled over her, and his eyes widened slightly.

"Do I look that bad?"

"You look sick," he said. "And that cut on your neck is deep. What happened?"

"Sayid. One of his men." Renee lifted her gaze to meet Khalid's. "They held a knife to my throat." Her voice cracked. "Will you do something for me?"

"What?"

"Use your gun. Please."

"What?" He stared at her, startled.

"The pistol," Renee repeated. "I know you have it." Her eyes filled with tears, and she didn't bother to wipe them away. "You know what Sayid plans to do with that knife, Khalid. In seventy-two hours… I don't want to die that way." She drew in a shuddering breath. "You know what I'm asking. Please. When it's time, promise me you'll do it. Or give it to me and I'll do it myself."

"I… I…" Khalid shook his head wordlessly. He turned on his heel and abruptly left the room, closing the door behind him.

Renee leaned her head back against the wall. _I don't want to die here. Not like this. _She tried to take a deeper breath. _No, I _won't _die here. _

There was no way she would give Sayid what he wanted. She would fight.

Jagged shards from a broken light bulb would be useful… but there was nothing that she could climb on to reach the bulb. And even if she had been able to reach it, the dubious-looking tangled wiring meant she'd probably electrocute herself in the process.

The bucket in the corner would certainly be a gross, smelly distraction, as well as something hard that she could throw. But in her current condition, Renee had no idea whether she would be able to lift and use it.

Her fingers brushed the small flashlight in her pocket. That would work. It was small and light, but hard and solid. With enough force behind a strike, it could easily be a very useful weapon.

Renee leaned her head back and closed her eyes.

She was too weak to fight for long, and failure would be deadly, but she had no intention of giving in easily. Now it was just a matter of waiting for the right moment to move.

..


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Jack stepped into the room, past the young man in a US Air Force uniform, and sat down in the chair that had been pulled out for him. A rugged Toughbook laptop sat on the table, ready and waiting.

Jack turned his attention to the laptop screen and the video call. He saw Dalia Hassan's face in the top left square on the screen, President Taylor's square alongside her, Chloe in the third square below them, and his own image in the fourth and final square on the bottom right.

The airman gave him a thumbs-up. "Everything is good to go on this end, sir. They can see and hear you."

"Coming through loud and clear, Jack," Chloe's voice said. "You look… well, not so great… but it's good to see you."

Jack smiled slightly. "Thanks, Chloe."

"I am ashamed that this happened on our soil," Dalia Hassan said grimly. "You and Agent Walker were guests, and we failed to protect you."

"There's no need for you to apologize. Your agents did everything they could," Jack assured her. "Three of them were killed trying to protect us. Please let their families know what they did."

Dalia nodded. "I have. The bodies of the three men were returned to their families for burial. But I was told that Laila Khouri survived. How is she?"

"They're taking excellent care of her, and of me," Jack said. "They told me that she's slowly becoming more stable, making progress. As soon as she's recovered enough to travel, she'll be transported back to Kamistan and returned to you."

Dalia smiled slightly. "That's wonderful to hear. Thank you." She sobered. "Rest assured that we will do everything that we can to find the people who did this to you and bring them to justice."

"You won't find the man responsible for this in Kamistan," Jack said, addressing Dalia as well as Chloe and the president. "He's Iraqi."

"Who are these people?" President Taylor spoke up, leaning forward in her chair. "That ambush in Kamistan was an incredibly bold and risky move. Especially considering that, as you say, they aren't from Kamistan. That means that they had to plan out a cross-border operation. Who was behind it? What do they want with you and Agent Walker?"

"The man responsible for it is named Ahmad Sayid," Jack answered. "In December 2006, I was part of a team that was tasked with taking down a man named Malik. 2006 and 2007 were the deadliest years for the American military in Iraq. Most of the attacks were carried out by a group called the IAI, Islamic Army in Iraq. They're a violent Iraqi nationalist group; their primary focus and goal is to expel all foreign troops from Iraq. Malik was a fairly high-ranking member, and he and his men were directly responsible for a number of IED blasts that injured and killed American soldiers. My team located him, and killed him. Malik is Sayid's brother, and Sayid wanted revenge for his death. When he saw the media coverage of President Hassan's funeral and realized that we were here, he sent his men to carry out the attack."

President Taylor's brow furrowed. "If he wanted to get revenge for his brother's death, then why doesn't he have you? Or why didn't he kill you? He planned and carried out an ambush that killed three of the four agents on your security detail, seized Agent Walker, but left you behind. Why?"

"From what Sayid told me, a concept in Islamic religious law called _qisas,"_ Jack said. "There are three options when someone is guilty of committing harm or murder. One is that the act can be forgiven and no punishment given. The second is _diyat, _essentially 'blood money', compensation paid by the offender to the victim or their family. And the third is what Sayid is doing here. _Qisas _is retaliation, an eye for an eye. The family and heirs of a victim can demand that the offender be injured or executed in the same or similar way as their victim."

"But in this case, you're the offender. Not Agent Walker."

"Sayid's answer was that he wants me to suffer like they are," Jack said grimly. "I took someone important from them, so he decided to do the same to me. He knows that Renee means a lot to me, so she is what he's using to get back at me."

He took a deep breath. "Earlier today, Sayid contacted me again. He sent me a photo of Renee, with one of his men holding a knife against her neck. There are eight prisoners in US custody who he wants released. He gave me an ultimatum, a seventy-two hour deadline. If negotiations haven't been made by then, he'll execute her."

Chloe gasped. "My God, Jack…"

"Who are these men?" President Taylor asked. "Why does he want them released?"

Jack shook his head. "I don't know."

"You've spoken with him, and you know who his brother was," she said. "What do you think his plans are? Do you think he's planning some sort of attack in the United States?"

Jack hesitated. "It's possible, but doesn't seem very likely. The IAI is an Iraqi nationalist group. So far, their M.O. has been kidnappings, targeted assassinations, and IED blasts. They want all foreign military members out of Iraq. Carrying out an attack in the US doesn't seem like something they would do. Then again," he added, "I don't know what Sayid's ultimate goal is. Malik was associated with IAI, but that doesn't mean Sayid is. He could be working on his own. Maybe he wants to use these prisoners as resources in an attack. Or maybe they're a diversion and distraction while he carries out some other plan."

President Taylor ran a hand over her face. "I know we're up against a deadline, but I want more information about these eight men. Why they were arrested, what their backgrounds are, why Sayid might want them."

Jack looked at Chloe's image on the screen. "We don't have much time. Can you get that information quickly?"

She nodded. "I'm on it."

The call came to an end, and the airman busied himself with packing up the computer and the communications equipment.

"You know we're doing everything we can to locate Agent Walker?" he said, meeting Jack's gaze. "That's a promise. She's an American, one of us. Whatever happens, she won't be left behind. We'll get her back."

"Thank you," Jack said quietly.

The young man nodded solemnly.

**/ / / / /**

"Papa!"

Khalid smiled. "Hello, _habibti." _He crossed the room and knelt down in front of his daughter.

For an instant, he saw Renee Walker's face staring back at him. Her spunk and stubbornness reminded him of Amal... Startled, Khalid shook his head. _What are you thinking? No. Stop. Don't go there._

Amal's lips and fingertips were a dark bluish-gray, and Khalid could hear a rattling wheeze in her chest with each breath that she took. "How do you feel? Better?" Her answer was a harsh, hacking cough that made him wince.

Amal leaned her head against her father's chest as the coughing fit subsided. Khalid gently ran his fingers through her tangled hair. "Where's Mama?" he asked her.

"Here," Rania's voice answered from the kitchen. Khalid kissed his daughter's forehead, stood, and went to go find his wife.

She stood in front of the stove, stirring a large pot of chicken and rice. Khalid sniffed the air and looked at the ingredients scattered across the counter. "Chicken _khabsa. _Amal's favorite. And mine, too."

Rania added a handful of raisins to the pot. "That's why I'm making it. Although I don't know how much Amal will want to eat."

"How is she today?"

Rania grimaced. "Mostly the same. At least her fever is gone, finally. But you can hear how she sounds. A few hours ago, she was coughing so hard that she nearly made herself sick."

"Do you think she needs to go to the hospital?"

Rania sighed. "They probably won't be able to do much for her. I gave her medicine earlier."

Khalid leaned against the counter. "Sayid has me guarding an American woman," he said.

She glanced up in surprise, the knife in her hand poised over the carrots on the cutting board. "He has an American prisoner? Why?"

"From what I've heard, the man she loves is the one responsible for killing Sayid's brother Malik. Sayid is using her to get revenge."

Rania's eyes widened. "So he must be a soldier. Is she?"

Khalid shook his head. "No. She's an agent for the American government. That's how Sayid always addresses her."

"Are you in danger?" she asked sharply. "The country is full of American soldiers. She works for the government, and the man she loves is some type of soldier. There are probably all sorts of people searching for her! Khalid, if they come to rescue her and you're there, you could be arrested! Or killed!"

He took a deep breath. "I think I'm going to get her out."

The knife clattered down onto the cutting board, scattering a few chopped carrot pieces, as she whirled around to stare at him. _"What?_ Why?" Her voice rose. "This woman is obviously important to Sayid, which means he wouldn't want to lose her. If he caught you, you know he would kill you! And what about us? You're willing to risk your life, _our_ lives, for this American woman? _Why?"_

Khalid reached out a hand and drew her towards him. "My _hayati, _you and Amal are part of the reason why I'm thinking of it. Renee – that's her name – reminds me of both of you." He smiled ever so slightly, then sobered again. "Sayid is using Renee to get what he wants. When I came in today, her neck was bleeding. She told me they held a blade to her throat, called the man she loves and his comrades, and issued an ultimatum. In seventy-two hours, Sayid is going to execute her."

Rania shuddered. "But what does that have to do with us?"

Khalid studied his wife's face. "Think about Amal. Her heart." His voice cracked. "Each time she gets sick, she could die. It will kill her. Without surgery, she will die." Khalid choked on those words, and a quiet cry came from Rania.

"You said it yourself," he said. "Renee works for the government. Sayid obviously thinks she's important enough to be useful. The Americans want her back. Maybe there's some sort of reward for information about her, or for returning her. You know they pay people who give them good information about weapons and attacks. They help people who help them."

Rania seemed to be thinking about that.

"You're not planning on handing her over to them yourself, are you?"

Khalid shook his head. "No. I wouldn't know how, and that's too risky. She's weak, injured, sick, and getting worse. She needs medical treatment. I'll go to Nasir at the hospital and ask him for help."

"Can you trust him?" she asked quietly.

He nodded emphatically. "Absolutely. He is a good man. I trust him with my life, and both of yours."

Rania sighed.

Khalid met her gaze. "You know what this means, don't you? Sayid will be furious. If I do this, we will have to go somewhere and disappear," he said quietly. "Jordan, Turkey, maybe somewhere else. I don't know. Somewhere where Amal can have her surgery and we can be safe."

She bit her lip, and tears welled in her eyes. "We said we wanted to leave Iraq some day. This isn't the way I thought we would do it."

"I know." Khalid hugged her gently.

Rania pulled back slightly to look at him. "Do it," she said simply.

"Are you sure?"

"I know you," she said. "You need to do this. For this woman Renee, for yourself, for all of us. So do it."

Khalid nodded. "All right. I'll go to Nasir tonight, and ask him to help."

..


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Amal glanced up from her spot on the couch. "Where are you going?"

"Out for a little while," Khalid told her. "I'll be back soon."

"Can I come with you?"

He shook his head. "Not this time, _habibti._ I'll take you with me later. I promise." Amal smiled, satisfied with that.

"Be careful, please," Rania said quietly, stepping forward to hug him.

"You know I will. It will be fine," he assured her. "I'm only going to the hospital to meet Nasir. I'll be back soon."

The sun was just beginning to set as Khalid made his way through the streets to the hospital.

Inside the emergency room, he found the usual chaos. Children cried in their mothers' arms. Muffled coughing could be heard. People sat listlessly in chairs or leaned against walls, their cheeks flushed and eyes dull. Some held cloth or gauze against bleeding wounds.

Khalid quickly stepped back against the wall as two orderlies rushed past him with a gurney, nearly running over his foot with one of the wheels. The gurney and the patient lying on it were both covered in blood.

A nurse spotted him and stopped. "Can I help you? Where are you going?"

"I'm looking for Dr. Hassan," he said. "Nasir. Do you know where he is?"

The woman pointed. "That way, around the corner, I think." Before she had even finished answering, she was already hurrying away.

Khalid walked through the crowded hallway, navigating around wheelchairs and stretchers that were parked against walls, some with patients waiting for care. He found Nasir at the end of the hallway, coming out of a treatment room. "Khalid!" the man exclaimed, startled. "What are you doing here?"

"Looking for you," he answered. "I need your help."

"Is it Amal?"

Khalid shook his head. "No. Well, yes, she is sick. But that's not why I'm here. I need to talk with you." He glanced around the crowded hallway. "Not here."

Nasir pointed to the room that he had just left. "In here, then. It's empty." He led Khalid into the room, closed the door, and locked it. "Now, what is it?"

"I need your help." Khalid leaned against the bed. "Sayid has an American prisoner. A woman. And not a civilian. She's an agent for the American government, as far as I can tell. That's how Sayid always addresses her."

"He's kidnapped a government agent?" Nasir's eyebrows arched incredulously. "Why?"

"The man she loves is the one who killed Sayid's brother Malik. Sayid is using her for revenge, to make this man suffer," Khalid said. "He's also using her as a bargaining chip to get what he wants from the Americans. When I saw her earlier, she told me that he plans to execute her in three days unless they comply."

Nasir frowned. "Why are you telling me this? What does this have to do with you?"

"Because I want to get her out."

Nasir inhaled sharply, startled. "Why do you want to risk your life, and Rania's and Amal's too, for this woman?" he demanded.

"She reminds me of both of them," Khalid said quietly. "Amal is sick again. You're not a cardiologist, but you know what that means for her. Each time she gets sick – a cold, a cough, a chest infection – it puts strain on her heart. Eventually, it will kill her." He tried to keep his voice from cracking. "Sayid obviously thinks that Renee – the woman – is important enough to get him what he wants. The Americans want her back. They help people who help them. Maybe, if I help get Renee back to them safely, they can find a way to help Amal."

"You know if you do this, you won't be safe in Iraq. Sayid will hunt you down and punish you. All three of you, probably."

Khalid swallowed hard as he nodded. "Yes, I know."

"And that's why you need my help, isn't it?" Nasir said. "As soon as you do this, you'll have to leave Iraq. You won't be able to do that on your own; you'll need help."

"That's part of it, yes."

Nasir leaned back against the table, thinking. "I know people who can help you. It will take some work, but we can arrange it. They'll be able to get you, Rania, and Amal out of Iraq safely."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome. I think you're taking a foolish risk, but you're a friend, so we'll do what we can to help." He paused. "You said that getting you all to safety was only part of what you need. What else?"

"She needs medical care," Khalid said. "I think her wounds are infected. She's hurting, sick, weak, and getting worse. Can you help with that?"

Nasir nodded. "I know who I can trust. If you can get her out and bring her here, we should be able take care of her."

"When?"

"I need some time to contact people and make plans." Nasir was quiet for a few moments. "I'll come to you later tonight, after _Isha_ prayer."

"All right. I'll let Rania know."

"Wait here," Nasir said, heading for the door. He returned a few minutes later, and handed Khalid a small plastic bag containing two white pills. "Here. From what you say, it sounds like moving her could be difficult. This will help with the pain."

"Thank you, Nasir," Khalid said gratefully.

He nodded. "You're welcome. Now, go. I need to get back to work before someone comes looking for me. I'll come see you tonight."

**/ / / / /**

A few minutes after the end of the nightly _Isha_ prayers, Khalid heard a quiet knock at the door. He hurried to answer it. "Nasir. Come in."

"_Ahlan, _Nasir, welcome. It's good to see you," Rania said quietly as she closed their daughter's bedroom door and came down the hallway. "Amal is asleep."

"I'll be quiet, then. Let her sleep. I'll see her later."

Rania motioned to the chairs. "Come sit down."

As all three of them sat, Nasir glanced at Rania. "You and Khalid have talked about this idea, haven't you? And you both are all right with it?"

She nodded, biting her lip. "Yes. I'm scared, but yes."

"Good. My contacts are willing to help you."

"And they have a plan?" Rania asked.

"Yes." Nasir leaned forward in his chair. "Khalid, you'll go to wherever this woman is being held – don't tell me; I don't need to know that – and get her out."

"You make it sound simple," Rania scoffed. "He'll just walk in, scoop her up, and walk right out the door."

"Hopefully, yes, that will be exactly what he'll do," Nasir replied.

"There should only be two people there to guard the building, and I know how to avoid them," Khalid said.

"After midnight, around 1:30, you'll bring her to the hospital."

"Why then?"

"It will be five hours from now, so that will give us time to work, and you time to pack some bags with what you want to take with you." Both Khalid and Rania nodded. Nasir continued. "I will come and get Rania and Amal and bring them to the hospital. We'll be waiting for you when you get there. One of my contacts will be there with a car. You'll hand Renee over to me, and then get in that car with Rania and Amal. Then you'll leave. He will be one of the people who help you get out of the country."

"Where are we going?" Rania said quietly.

"Eventually, across the border to Jordan. But first, north to Sulaymaniyah," Nasir answered. "Kurdish territory. One of my friends, a doctor in Nasiriyah, told me about a group of American and Kurdish doctors who help children who need heart surgery." Rania's eyes widened and filled with tears. Khalid stared at his friend, hanging on every word. Nasir smiled. "They came to Nasiriyah earlier this year and held a screening to evaluate children for surgery. Their main base is the hospital in Sulaymaniyah. They bring American and Turkish doctors and nurses to train the Kurdish hospital staff to do these surgeries. The team is there in Suly now, holding another screening for the next group of patients. It's five hours by car from Baghdad to Suly. You'll leave tonight, and you should get there just before sunrise. Another friend will meet you there, and take you to the hospital in Suly to meet them. We've talked to some friends, and they agreed to put Amal on the list for evaluation."

Rania wept. Khalid swallowed the lump in his throat. "Thank you, Nasir," he said hoarsely.

Nasir nodded. "You are welcome." He continued. "You should be safe in Suly. If they are able to help Amal there, my friends will be sure you're kept safe until she's recovered enough to make the trip across the border to Jordan. If they can't help her in Suly, then our friend knows a cardiologist and surgeon in Amman. When you leave Suly, he'll escort you across the border into Jordan. Someone else will be waiting for you on the Jordanian side of the border."

He looked at both of them for a long moment. "You know you probably won't be able to come back here, don't you? You understand that?"

"Yes," Khalid said quietly. Rania nodded silently.

"Be sure to bring your ID cards with you. I'll need them. My contact who is meeting us at the hospital will give you new ones."

"What will you do with them?" Rania asked.

Nasir shook his head. "You don't need to know that. You should pack some things that you want to take with you. One or two bags per person, and not large ones. Knapsacks or small suitcases. Any more than that will be too hard to carry, and will look suspicious. Understand?" Rania and Khalid both nodded. "All right." Nasir got to his feet. "I'll be back soon."

..


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Khalid walked quickly towards the building, grateful that the light bulb above the door was burned out. He reached into his pocket for the key, unlocked the door, and silently slipped inside.

He could faintly hear the sound of a TV coming from the room at the end of the hallway. Glancing around the side of the doorframe, he saw that Assef was slumped in his chair, snoring, his AK-47 propped against the wall behind him.

_Where is Tariq?_ There was no sign of the other man.

Slowly, cautiously, Khalid crept down the hallway towards Renee.

**/ / / / /**

Renee reached for the thin, worn blankets on the floor and wrapped one of them around her shoulders. Her teeth chattered as her body shook with another round of violent shivering.

She groaned and flinched as the blanket fabric touched the raw, shredded skin on her back.

Her hair was matted with dried blood that had dripped down her neck from the knife wound, and the fabric of her shirt clung to the deep gashes on her back. All of the wounds burned and ached, throbbing in time with her heartbeat.

Her head felt muddled and heavy. She leaned back against the wall and closed her eyes, blocking out the flickering light overhead.

Beads of sweat broke out across her face as the wave of chills gave way to heat. She let the blanket fall off her shoulders, but kept it close by. Soon enough, she'd be freezing and shivering again.

She vaguely registered the sound of a lock clicking as the door opened. Footsteps crossed the room. Renee forced her eyes open, blinking to clear her vision, and tried to focus enough to see who was there.

Khalid's face wavered in front of her. A hand pressed against her forehead. Both of them flinched and recoiled; he from the heat radiating off of her, and she because his hand felt like ice on her skin.

His arm slid behind her, supporting her neck, cradling her head. Renee resisted weakly, confused. Khalid lifted her head and held a cup to her lips. "Here. Drink." She took a sip, and was surprised to find warm, sugary tea. He watched as she swallowed. "Is it too hot?" Renee shook her head.

"Thank you," she said hoarsely when the cup was empty. He set it down on the floor and gently removed his arm from behind her, lowering her to the floor again.

Renee closed her eyes.

Gradually, she realized that the pain had faded slightly. Her head felt heavy and oddly disconnected from the rest of her body. A wave of drowsiness washed over her, and she felt herself drifting. She forced her eyes open and stared at Khalid. "You drugged me," she managed. "What did you do? Why?"

He shook his head. "I'm not going to hurt you, I promise. I gave you medication for the pain."

"Why?"

Before he could answer, a voice in the hallway demanded, "What are you doing?"

Khalid spun around and found Tariq standing in the doorway. His eyes widened. "Tariq…" The man's hand moved toward the gun at his hip. "Don't," Khalid said quietly.

Tariq looked back and forth between Khalid and Renee. "What are you doing?" he repeated. Then, in one sudden movement, the pistol was out of his waistband and gripped in his hand. Khalid didn't wait to see who it would be aimed at. He lunged, grabbing Tariq's arm and knocking him against the wall. The gunshot echoed in the enclosed space, leaving Khalid's ears ringing. He slammed Tariq's hand against the wall, knocking the pistol out of his grasp and sending it flying.

Surely the gunshot had woken Assef… any moment now, he would come charging down the hallway with his rifle…

Khalid's heart raced.

Tariq opened his mouth to call out. Khalid's arm shot up and his hand clamped over the man's mouth.

Suddenly there was a muffled pop and a cracking sound, and Tariq went limp. Khalid looked numbly at his hand over Tariq's mouth, and his arm wrapped around the man's neck. _I didn't… Did I do this? _He stared at his hands and at Tariq's lifeless body, stunned.

Slowly, carefully, he lowered the dead man to the floor, stepped around him, and turned to Renee. She was shivering, her body drenched in sweat, her eyes glassy and unfocused. Taking a deep breath, Khalid crouched and slid his arms around her.

Renee felt his arms wrapping around her, supporting her head and lifting her body off of the floor. She cried out in pain and clutched at his arm.

Khalid froze. "Shhh," he hissed, leaning over to make eye contact with her. "Listen. I am going to get you out of here. If anyone hears us, we are both dead. Not a sound. You understand?"

She nodded groggily.

He stood and lifted her from the floor, wincing as she moaned. He carefully adjusted her position in his arms, tightened his grip, and moved towards the door.

There was still no sign of Assef. With Renee in his arms, there was no way for Khalid to reach the pistol tucked into his waistband. He prayed that the man had thought the gunshot came from the movie, or that he was still asleep and snoring.

Khalid walked as quickly as he dared, trying not to trip or jostle Renee. His heart pounded wildly in his chest. The corridor was deserted, still, and silent. The walk seemed endless, the door impossibly far away.

As they stepped outside, Renee stirred and lifted her head. A light breeze ruffled her hair and the edges of the blanket.

Khalid picked up his pace, walking faster, heading towards the car parked in the shadows next to the building.

He shifted Renee in his arms and fumbled for the door handle. She groaned at the movement, and Khalid saw the muscles in her jaw clench as she gritted her teeth. "Sorry," he whispered.

The door opened at last. More awkward maneuvering, and more quiet pained sounds from Renee, until finally she was lying in the back seat of the car. Khalid carefully tucked the blanket around her and closed the door.

The sound of the car's engine coming to life seemed horribly loud. Khalid stared at the building, half expecting to see Assef run out the door, hear a voice yelling for him to stop, or feel bullets tear through his body.

Nothing. Silence.

Hardly daring to breathe, he gripped the steering wheel and turned towards the road.

"Why are you doing this?" He jumped, startled, as Renee's voice drifted faintly from the back seat. Her words were slow, groggy, slightly slurred.

"For all of us," he said. "For you, and my family."

"Where are we going? Where are you taking me?"

"To a friend in Baghdad," he answered.

A few moments of silence, then she sleepily murmured, "Thank you."

**/ / / / /**

The twenty-five-minute drive between Taji and Baghdad had never felt so long. Khalid stared into the shadows as they drove through the streets, watching for any sign that someone was following them or lying in wait.

The only sounds from Renee were occasional moans or yelps when the car bounced over potholes in the road. Otherwise, she was silent and still in the backseat.

Finally, Khalid spotted the lights of the hospital building.

As he pulled into the parking lot, he nearly missed the dark gray car sitting in the shadows. Nasir stepped around the front bumper and discreetly held up one hand. Khalid breathed a sigh of relief, realizing for the first time that his hands were trembling.

"You made it," Nasir said quietly. Khalid could only nod.

"I have Renee," he said. "Help me get her out."

Nasir hurried over to the hospital entrance, and returned a few minutes later with a woman pushing a stretcher. Khalid opened the back door of the car, and the nurse slid her hands under Renee's arms and gently pulled her across the seat. She arched her back, groaning in pain at the movement. Khalid took hold of her legs, and together the two of them lifted her out of the car and onto the stretcher.

Nasir frowned as he touched Renee's arm. "She's burning up. Get her inside. I'll be there in a minute."

Khalid watched as Renee and the stretcher disappeared inside the building. "Where are Rania and Amal?" he asked.

Nasir pointed to the waiting car. "Here, waiting for you." He opened the back door, and Khalid saw Rania sitting in the back seat with Amal sleeping soundly in her lap.

Amal stirred. Her eyes fluttered open, and she smiled sleepily. "Papa!" Khalid leaned into the car to kiss her cheek. "We're going on a long trip," Amal informed him excitedly.

Khalid nodded. "Yes, we are, _habibti." _

"Where are we – ?" Amal's question was interrupted by a coughing fit.

Nasir grimaced as he heard the harsh, hacking cough.

Khalid cleared his throat and blinked back tears. "Thank you, Nasir," he whispered. "For everything."

The man nodded. "You're welcome, my friend." He motioned to the car. "Now, get in. You need to leave. The sooner you get on the road, the better."

Rania gently moved Amal off of her lap and onto the seat next to her. Khalid took a deep breath and climbed into the car, settling Amal between him and Rania.

Nasir quietly closed the door and stepped back.

The car pulled out of the hospital parking lot and into the streets of Baghdad.

Nasir turned and walked back towards the door of the hospital, towards the American woman who Khalid had brought to him, who was waiting inside.

..


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Renee was vaguely aware of footsteps and voices surrounding her. They grew closer, louder. She let herself drift again, too tired and dazed to care.

Something soft and horribly cold was draped across her forehead, followed by a second object touching the back of her neck. Renee flinched at the sudden shock. "Cold," she whispered hoarsely in English. There was no response. Her teeth chattered. _"Huwa bered,"_ she repeated, more loudly, in Arabic this time. Couldn't they understand that she was freezing?

Annoyed, she reached a hand up to push the offending coldness away. Another hand caught hers and pushed it back down to her side. "Leave it," a woman's voice ordered in accented English.

Her left eye was bruised, swollen shut, and throbbing painfully. Slowly, with effort, Renee opened her good right eye. As her vision cleared, she took in the sight of white walls and a tile floor, and people in white lab coats and green scrubs moving around the room.

Terror shot through her. _What the…? _Where was she? What the hell was Sayid doing to her now? Lab coats and scrubs meant medical personnel, or at least people trying to look like medical personnel. What were they going to do? Drug her? Find new ways to torture her?

Her eyes widened as she caught sight of a familiar face in the crowd of scrubs and white coats: Sayid stood there, glaring at her. She blinked, startled. His face disappeared, replaced by a bearded man with an ID badge clipped to his shirt and a stethoscope looped around his neck.

Suddenly, she felt the sharp sting of a needle in her left arm. She yelped, startled, and tried to pull away. A hand tightened its grip on her arm, holding it steady.

A woman's voice, sounding frustrated, grumbled something in Arabic about dehydration and collapsing veins.

Renee smelled and felt an alcohol swab being swiped across her skin, this time on the back of her right hand. She whipped her head around and caught sight of a container of IV supplies, and a woman in a nurse's uniform preparing a needle. Two more hands gripped her elbow and lower arm, pinning it to the bed, holding it steady for this woman to stick her.

"What are you doing?" She hardly recognized her own voice. It was weak, pathetic, tinged with fear. Her heart pounded. There was no way she was going to let any of these people inject her with anything. God only knew what they wanted to do, what Sayid had told them to do to torment her.

There were cool, sticky round pads on her chest, and something was clipped to her left index finger. Renee realized that the shrill, rapid beeping sound was her racing heart, pounding in her chest.

A gloved hand brushed her matted hair back and out of her face. A man's face appeared in her line of vision, peering down at her through round glasses. "Calm down," he said quietly in English. "I won't hurt you." Renee noticed that he'd said _I, _not _we. _What did that mean?

They turned her onto her left side, being surprisingly gentle and careful. Renee squeezed her eyes shut as the movement brought a wave of dizziness and nausea. Her head spun, and her stomach churned sickeningly. Then pain exploded through her back as someone tried to pull part of her shirt away from the wounds and dried blood. She cried out and jerked away, moving out of their reach. "No! Stop!"

Strong arms pressed down on her shoulders, trying to keep her from moving.

"Relax," a woman's voice murmured in Arabic. "Let us help you."

"Let me go! Please!" It came out in a panicked jumble of English and Arabic. She kept moving, struggling, flailing, desperately trying to fight off the people surrounding her.

"Hold her still!" a sharp voice ordered.

More pairs of hands gripped her shoulders, hands, and ankles, holding her in place, keeping her still.

Suddenly, she felt a sharp burning pain spreading through her hand and fingers. Renee jerked, startled. She turned her head and saw the needle taped to her arm, a syringe attached to the IV tubing, and milky white liquid being quickly pushed through the line. The hot, stinging sensation moved through her hand and up her arm. A hand gently rubbed her arm, apparently trying to ease the pain.

"What are you giving me?" she demanded. "What is this?"

The pain faded to numbness, and Renee felt the creeping numbness moving through her body, weighing down her arms and legs. Now they were too heavy to move, and her eyes refused to stay open...

"No," she protested. "Please… no…"

Sounds faded into silence as darkness overtook her.

**/ / / / /**

The light was bright, shining against her closed eyelids. Slowly, cautiously, Renee opened her one good eye and studied her surroundings. Tan walls, a white tile floor, and a curtain hanging in the middle of the room. She was lying in what seemed to be a hospital bed, with metal rails and crisp striped sheets.

She tried to lift her right arm, but was stopped short. Panic shot through her as she glanced down and saw straps made of soft black cloth fastened around her wrists, tying her hands to the bed rails. The IV line running into her right arm was connected to two bags of clear fluid that hung from a pole next to the bed.

_What is this?_

The beeping from her heart monitor grew louder and faster as she pulled against the restraints, desperately trying to loosen them.

"Calm down. You're going to hurt yourself." Renee jumped, startled. She hadn't heard the man enter the room.

"_Minu anta? Shu ismak?"_ she asked in Arabic. "Who are you? What's your name?"

"Oh, you speak Arabic?" He smiled, switching to that language. "You speak some Arabic, and I speak some English. That is good. My name is Nasir. Dr. Nasir Hassan."

"What's going on? What do you want?"

"I'm not going to hurt you, I promise," he said. "Do you know where you are? Do you remember anything about how you got here?"

Renee shook her head. The last thing she remembered was sitting in her cell, burning up and shaking with chills at the same time. Khalid had come… and then...

"Khalid?" she said.

The doctor nodded. "Yes, Khalid is the one who brought you here."

She thought about the implications of that, the risks that it would pose for Khalid and his family. "He did that for me? Why?"

"He is a good friend," Dr. Hassan told her. "He came to me and asked me to help you. I agreed, so he brought you here this morning. In return for getting you here, we arranged to take him and his family to safety."

"Where am I? Where is he?"

"You're in Al-Kindi hospital in Baghdad," he informed her. "Khalid and his family are safe, with friends."

Renee studied her surroundings. What Saddam Hussein's regime hadn't ruined during his reign, insurgent forces had during years of war. Iraq's healthcare system was slowly being rebuilt. This hospital wasn't as shiny and high-tech as ones in the United States, but the conditions seemed decent. The room was clean, and all of the equipment seemed to be working.

Dr. Hassan inspected the IV. Renee glanced down at the restraints around her wrists. "Why are my hands tied?" she asked in English.

"You were confused, upset, fighting us. We had to sedate you so you would relax."

Renee winced. "I'm sorry. Did I hurt anyone?"

Dr. Hassan shook his head. "No. Don't worry about that." She breathed a sigh of relief. "You are strong," he said, smiling slightly. "That is a good thing." He motioned to her arms. "We did this so you wouldn't be able to pull out your IV line or remove anything else when you woke up again. If I take those off now, you won't try to do that, will you?"

"No. You can take them off."

"Very good. Here." He quickly untied the straps and freed her hands.

Renee gratefully wiggled her fingers and flexed her wrists. "Thank you." She warily eyed the bags dangling from the IV pole. "What are you giving me?"

"Nothing that will hurt you," he said calmly. "You are dehydrated. That's why it was so difficult to place the IV." He indicated the bruises that dotted both of her arms, marking the spots where they had tried and failed to place the needle. Renee grimaced. "We are giving you fluids to rehydrate you, medication for the pain, and antibiotics."

"Why?"

"Because you have an infection. The wounds on your back are from a whip, yes? The gash on your neck looks like a cut from a sharp blade. They are infected." Renee cautiously reached up and touched the gauze and tape on the side of her neck. "While you were asleep, we cleaned and treated those wounds and bandaged them. Are you hurting?"

She paused, considering, then shook her head. "No, not much."

"Good. If you are in pain, tell someone. We can give you something for it."

She licked her chapped lips. "Can I have some water, please?"

"Not yet, but for now you can have ice." Dr. Hassan pointed to a glass of ice chips on the table. He scooped up a few of the slivers with a plastic spoon and fed them to her.

"_Shukran k'tir." _Renee accepted them gratefully, letting them melt on her tongue, savoring the coolness and letting the liquid soothe her throat. "Good and cold. Why am I so hot?"

"Because you have a fever from the infection," he answered. "You're dehydrated, weak, sick, and injured. We're giving you IV fluids and medicine. You'll be taken care of as much as we can."

Renee bit her lip. "What did Khalid tell you? What do you know about me?"

"I know who Sayid is," the doctor said. "Many people do. He is a dangerous man. He is powerful. They will be looking for you."

"Exactly what I'm afraid of," Renee said grimly. "Am I safe here?"

"Part of the reason why Khalid brought you here is because it is farther away, and he wanted to put some distance between you and Sayid," Dr. Hassan said. "No one here will hurt you. We will try to keep you safe." He met her gaze. _"Diyafa. _Do you know what this means?The code of hospitality. A very old, ancient tradition, and it is very important in the Middle East. If you are a guest, your hosts will protect you, with their lives if it comes to that. And if anything happens to you, the people who did it will pay dearly. You understand?"

Renee nodded, understanding the significance of his words. "Yes. Thank you."

"You are a patient here, not a prisoner. You're in Baghdad, and I'm sure you know there are Americans here. We're not keeping you; we will get you back to them." The doctor smiled. "Now, get some sleep. You need to rest so you can heal."

Renee didn't need any urging. The mattress was thin, but it felt heavenly compared to the hard concrete floor of her cell. She closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.

..


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

The slap sent Assef stumbling backwards. He raised a hand to the side of his face, where a red mark was already forming. "Ahmad, I – "

"Shut up!" Sayid shouted. Assef flinched. "Look at what you've done! The waiting, the searching, the plans… all for nothing."

"We don't know for certain that Khalid helped the woman escape," the man said hesitantly.

Sayid snorted scornfully. "Then who killed Tariq? And how else would Renee have gotten out? You saw her wounds, and you saw the room that she was in. There was no way she could have overpowered him and left here on her own. No, she managed to persuade Khalid to get her out. They disappeared from underneath your nose," he added, his eyes blazing.

Assef started to speak, but Sayid silenced him with a scathing glare.

"I don't want excuses. I want you to fix your mess and _find them. _I've made too many plans for you to ruin them now. For your sake, I hope you can recover Renee and bring her back."

"What do you want me to do with Khalid and his family? Kill them?"

Sayid considered the question, then sighed as he thought about little Amal. "No. I'll handle Khalid and what he has done. Bring them all to me."

The man nodded silently.

"Now get out of here. Go."

As Assef turned to leave, Sayid raised his pistol and fired two shots. The man's body crumpled to the floor, and a pool of blood began to spread underneath him.

Sayid shook his head in disgust. How had things gone so wrong?

**/ / / / /**

Renee felt soft fabric brushing against her cheek, and spotted a flash of blue out of the corner of her eye. She turned her head and found the tiny cloth doll, with its blue dress and black head scarf, sitting on the pillow next to her head.

"That was in your pocket," Dr. Hassan said from the doorway. He raised an eyebrow, amused.

Renee smiled. "Khalid left blankets for me, and I found the doll caught up in one of them. I kept it. Something cute to look at and hold on to."

Suddenly, she remembered the second object that had been in her pocket: the flashlight from Matthew Reed. She reached down to where her pocket should have been, but grasped nothing but a handful of fabric. Her torn and bloody clothes had been replaced by a hospital gown and blankets.

"We also found a small flashlight in your other pocket," the doctor said. "Is that what you're looking for?" She nodded. He pointed to the drawer in the small bedside table. "It's in a bag in there."

Renee breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you."

"We thought they must be important if you were keeping them, so I saved them for you. The light is over there, and you found the doll on your pillow."

She ran her fingers over the decorated edge of the doll's scarf. "Khalid and his family… you said they're somewhere safe. How do you know?"

"Connections," Dr. Hassan said simply. "Khalid and I both have friends who were willing to help. As far as Sayid and his people know, Khalid and his family are dead. And all you need to know is that they are safe."

She shifted slightly, grimacing at the pain that flared in her back and right side.

The doctor noticed, and glanced at the clock. "Your next dose of pain medication is due in one hour. Can you wait that long, or would you like me to find something else to give you now?"

Renee shook her head. "I can wait."

"You are stubborn, I think." He smiled. "All right. In one hour, then. If you need anything else, let someone know." He left the room, pulling the door closed behind him.

**/ / / / /**

The sleek red car careened wildly around a corner and lost control, crashing into a concrete wall.

Jack groaned as he dropped the video game controller into his lap. The young soldier next to him smiled triumphantly.

"Don't celebrate too much, Ellis," another soldier said with a smirk. "You're playing against an opponent who's older than you and who only has one good hand. His other arm's still in a cast. No offense, sir," he added hastily, looking at Jack.

Jack chuckled. "None taken." He held out the controller. "You want to take over? I think I've been beaten enough for one day."

The man shook his head. "No, thanks. I see enough crazy drivers on the roads out there. I don't need to re-live the experience here."

"At least the ones in the game aren't shooting at us and trying to blow us up," Private Ellis said, turning off the game and getting to his feet.

Jamie strode into the room, accompanied by an older man wearing the uniform of a US Army major. "So this is where you went, Jack. I looked all over the hospital building for you and was trying to figure out where to go next. Somebody finally said they thought they'd seen you on your way over here. Thanks for not making me search the entirety of Balad."

Something in Jamie's tone and facial expression caught Jack's attention. "What is it?"

"I'm here to take you over to the TOC," Jamie said. "They were able to trace Sayid's calls, and they think they have a lead on where he's holding Renee."

Jack sprang to his feet, dropped the game controller, and hurried towards the door.

The major held out his hand. "Major David Williams, US Army."

"Jack Bauer." Jack returned his handshake.

The three of them climbed into the Humvee that was waiting outside. Jamie slid behind the steering wheel, and started the drive across the massive, sprawling base.

"You looked like you were having fun in there," he said.

Jack shrugged. "They convinced me to play. It was a good distraction for a while."

"Who won the game?"

"Not me," Jack replied.

Jamie chuckled, then glanced at him in the rearview mirror. "You're looking a little rough around the edges. Did you sleep last night?"

"Not much." Jack didn't mention the grisly nightmare that had woken him in the early hours of the morning, leaving him sweating, trembling, and staring at the ceiling. Going back to sleep had been a futile effort after that.

"I can give you a sleeping pill if you want it tonight," Jamie offered. Jack shook his head no. "You sure?"

"I'm fine." Jack leaned forward in his seat. "So where do they think she is?"

Jamie stopped for a group of soldiers jogging across the road in front of them. "I was just told to bring you over to the TOC to sit in on the mission briefing. You'll get the details there."

..


	16. Chapter 16

Those 12 episodes of "Live Another Day" sure went by quickly! I don't know about you, but I'm definitely ready for more. :-) I miss 24!

I plan to keep working on this story (still have a lot of ideas for it; things aren't finished yet), so I hope my readers will stick around and keep reading and commenting!

Here's another chapter for you. I've been on vacation for the last several days (family trip for my and my Mom's birthday - mine is July 23 and hers is July 27), and have very limited internet access here. But I do have my laptop with me, and I've managed to get some writing done during down time when it's too hot to do anything else. :-)

This chapter is a long one! Hope you enjoy.

…

Chapter 16

The Humvee came to a stop in front of one of the Tactical Operations Center buildings. Jack followed Major Williams through the door and into a room crammed with tables, chairs, and soldiers. Nearly every eye in the room turned towards him as he sat down in an empty chair.

The major strode to the front of the room.

A photo of Renee flashed onto the projector screen behind him, taken from her FBI personnel file. "This is Agent Renee Walker. She was recently kidnapped during an ambush in Kamistan that left three people dead and two wounded. She is currently in the custody of a man named Ahmad Sayid."

He motioned to Jack. "This is Agent Jack Bauer with the Counter-Terrorism Unit. He's one of ours, former Army, Special Forces." Jack noticed the group of soldiers and airmen focusing on him with new interest. The major continued, "He was injured in that same attack. This mission pertains to him, so I thought he should join us. I'll let him give you the relevant background information."

Jack cleared his throat. "Renee Walker is someone important to me. She is my partner, and a very good friend. She was kidnapped in retaliation for my actions. In May 2007, I was part of a team that was tasked with taking down a man named Malik. Malik was a fairly high-ranking member of the IAI, Islamic Army in Iraq. He and his men were directly responsible for a number of IED blasts that injured and killed American soldiers. My team and I located him, and killed him. Malik is Sayid's brother, and Sayid wanted revenge for his death. He's decided to retaliate, an eye for an eye, because he wants me to suffer like he and his family are. I took someone important from them, so he decided to do the same to me. He knows that Renee means a lot to me, so she is what he's using to get back at me."

Major Williams took over again. "Our mission objective is to locate and retrieve Renee Walker. She's an American citizen, as well as a federal agent. Both she and Agent Bauer have served this country honorably. Letting her die in Sayid's hands would be, in my opinion, unacceptable," he said. "Sayid has been communicating with Agent Bauer via telephone, and some of our communications personnel have been working on tracing those calls. They were able to pinpoint the location that the calls were made from."

A satellite map image appeared on the screen.

"This building. It's an abandoned warehouse just outside of Taji. Obviously not abandoned any more, since Sayid and his people have taken it for their use. The most recent satellite imagery, roughly twenty-four hours ago, shows at least ten men on the premises, all armed with AK-47's. They're clearly using it for some sort of operation."

"Is there another aspect we need to be aware of? Something other than just a hostage kidnapping and desire for revenge?" another soldier spoke up. "Ten men to guard one prisoner seems excessive. What else could Sayid be planning?"

The major glanced at Jack, who answered. "Sayid contacted me and issued an ultimatum. There are eight prisoners in US custody who he wants released. If negotiations haven't begun in seventy-two hours, he's threatened to execute Renee. CTU is working on getting more information about who the eight prisoners are and why Sayid might want them. At this point, we don't know what Sayid's ultimate goal is. He may want to use them as resources in an attack, or they could be just a diversion and distraction while he carries out some other plan. For the time being, we don't know."

"The primary objective is to retrieve Agent Walker and bring her to safety," Major Williams said. "You're authorized to use whatever force is necessary. That said, capturing Sayid alive would be extremely beneficial. During the rescue, if you have an opportunity to take any of the hostiles into custody, do so."

A man near the front of the room, whose name badge and rank insignia identified him as "Master Sergeant Mitchell", got to his feet. "Now, team details. We'll have an eight-man team for this mission. Cooper and Bennett, you two are on sniper duty, covering the doors to the building. Six will be on the ground; Lyon, Kelly, Grant, Carter, Ortiz, and Meyers, along with K-9 Thor."

He pointed to the satellite image of the building. "There are two outer doors, one in the front and one in the rear. Cooper and Bennett will be covering both of them. Lyon will be on point, breaching the door upon entry. The rest of you will follow behind him."

"What about explosives?" one of the men spoke up. "Malik apparently was knowledgeable about IED's. Seems likely that Sayid is as well. It's entirely possible that the building is mined."

Mitchell nodded, acknowledging the point. "That's why we're deploying K-9 Thor as well as the robot."

He continued. "Carter and Kelly, you two will be providing medical support."

"Do we know what condition Agent Walker is in?" Specialist Carter asked.

Two photos of Renee flashed onto the screen. "These were sent to Agent Bauer by Sayid. Those wounds on her back look like she was beaten by a whip. I also see bruising and multiple lacerations. I'm sure that's not the extent of her injuries. I would operate under the assumption that she is _not_ mobile and will need to be carried out."

The two soldiers nodded.

He continued briefing the team, outlining the specifics of the assault plan, communications protocol, and other details.

"Any questions?" he asked at last, glancing around the room.

Jack cleared his throat. "I'd like to go along. Please."

Major Williams arched an eyebrow. "You're not here in an official capacity; you don't have any authority here. Not to mention, it looks like you're still recovering from your injuries. There's no way that I could get clearance for you. However," he added, seeing the expression on Jack's face, "that doesn't mean you can't come along on the chopper. If you just _happened_ to be on board along with the team, I don't think anyone would object. I can't arm you, and you wouldn't be able to go in on the assault. But you would be on site, and once Agent Walker was secured, you would be able to see her." He glanced at the team of soldiers. "Any objections?" No one spoke up.

"Thank you, sir," Jack said gratefully.

When there were no more questions to answer or topics to cover, Master Sergeant Mitchell got to his feet again. "Wheels up will be at 2300 hours tonight," he informed the team.

With that pronouncement, the briefing concluded. The soldiers scattered in different directions, focused on the preparations for the mission. The clock was ticking.

**/ / / / /**

Three sleek black helicopters descended from the night sky above Iraq. The large Black Hawk UH-60 was closely escorted by two armed Apache AH-64's. Their rotors whipped up clouds of dust and grit as the helicopters touched down in a field on the outskirts of Taji.

In moments, eight human soldiers and one sleek German Shepherd dog had scrambled out of the Black Hawk helicopter and were moving towards the building in front of them.

Jack kept his gaze fixed on the small monitor that was displaying a green-tinged night-vision video feed. The jostling and noise from the helicopter flight had made him nauseous given him a splitting headache, but he wasn't about to complain.

"Snipers are in position," Bennett's voice said quietly a few moments later. "So far, no movement detected. It's all quiet."

"Copy that," Lyon answered, steering the bomb robot up to the door. K-9 Thor followed behind it, his ears perked and nose lowered to the ground. Lyon studied the video display from the robot. "We're clear to proceed. Let's move."

The six men moved quickly around the side of the building and towards the door, taking up positions around it.

"Three… two… one… Execute! Execute!"

The door flew open, slamming against the wall. "Flash-bang," Lyon warned as he pulled the pin on a stun grenade and tossed it inside. The soldiers closed their eyes and turned their heads away as the grenade detonated with a deafening bang and a blinding flash of light. No sooner had it exploded than they were moving through the door and into the building.

Instead of stunned and surprised hostiles, their entrance was met by stillness and quiet. Cautiously, Lyon motioned for the team to move forward.

One by one, each door in the first hallway was breached and opened. Each time, they repeated the same report. "Clear… clear… clear…"

"All clear in this hallway," Lyon reported. Now they were faced with a T-shaped corridor branching in two directions. "Carter, Ortiz, and I will cover the right. Meyers, Kelly, and Grant, take the left."

"What _is_ this?" Sergeant Ortiz muttered as the team entered another room.

"Some sort of torture room," Specialist Carter said grimly. "Agent Bauer, you said Sayid wanted to use Renee to get revenge for his brother's death. Looks like he planned to torture her here before he killed her." The room was mostly empty, but they grimly looked at the ominous objects that remained: a whip curled up on the table, a metal chair tipped over in the middle of the floor, an empty bucket in front of it, and battery cables in a heap on the floor in the corner.

"Enough," Jack said hoarsely. "Please. Get out of there."

The soldiers continued moving.

As they opened another door, Thor yanked hard on the leash. His ears pointed straight up and he lifted his head. "Stop," Ortiz warned. "Thor's alerting." He carefully surveyed the doorway that they were standing in and the room that they were about to enter. The dog trotted forward into the room, his nose to the floor, and immediately zeroed in on the left wall. He stopped, sat, and pointed his head towards whatever he had found.

Cautiously, Ortiz crossed the room and knelt to see what the dog had detected. There, on the floor in front of the wall, were two bullets and several wire fragments.

"No explosives here, but this room held explosives and weapons at some point," he reported. He examined the two bullets. "These are AK-47 rounds."

Lyon knelt and picked up one of the small wire fragments. "This looks like what they'd typically use to wire an IED. Let me see that photo from Sayid," he requested. "The second one, of Agent Walker and the two hostiles." Ortiz pulled a printed copy of the picture from his pocket and handed it over. "Look at this. See the two guys holding her? They have dust and dried mud caked on their shoes and pants legs. That means they've been digging to plant IED's. This room must be their bomb factory."

Carter leaned over to study the photo. "Look at the one on Agent Walker's left side. His right hand. Either he's holding it at an odd angle, or he has missing fingers. A bomb maker who got injured by one of his own creations."

"Holding an American captive by day, planting bombs by night," Lyon said darkly. "Nice guys."

Thor wagged his tail happily as Ortiz praised him for the find.

Suddenly, Meyers' voice crackled over the comms network. "We've got a body here," he announced.

Jack's heart flew into his throat. _Oh, God, no… _He leaned forward, staring at the video feed, desperately trying to make out the shape on the floor.

"It's not Agent Walker," Meyers said quickly. "I repeat, we have one body here, but it is _not_ Renee Walker. Arab male, mid- to late forties, with two gunshots to his back and the back of his head. No ID. AK-47 in the corner over here behind him."

Jack nearly collapsed in relief.

"Copy that. Any sign of anyone else?" Lyon asked him.

"Negative, sir."

Lyon motioned his team forward to the next door. Immediately, all three of them noticed the padlock securing it. They exchanged glances, and Lyon smiled slightly.

The padlock broke with a snap and dropped to the floor. Lyon yanked the door open as his team surged into the room. "US Army! Renee Walker, call out! Identify yourself!"

There was no response.

"Clear," Ortiz announced as they surveyed the room. "There's no one here."

"Someone was here at some point," Carter observed. "Smells like urine. That bucket must've been used as a toilet." He picked up the worn blanket that had been dropped in a crumpled heap on the floor. "This has streaks of dried blood on it. And there are some droplets on the floor here, too."

Lyon blew out a frustrated breath, shaking his head. "Balad TOC, we're all clear, with no sign of Agent Walker," he reported. "I repeat, we have _not_ recovered her. We've located the room where she was apparently being held, but she is not here."

"Copy that," Major Williams' voice answered.

They all heard the whispered curse from Jack. Master Sergeant Mitchell turned to see him slumped forward in his seat, cradling his head in his hands, staring numbly at the floor of the helicopter.

"What happened?" Mitchell asked. "Bad intel?"

"No, sir," Lyon replied. "This building was obviously in use. We found a room with a padlock on the door, a bucket that was used as a toilet, and a small amount of dried blood on a blanket and the floor. Considering that this is where Sayid's call was traced to, I'm inclined to believe that this is where they were holding Agent Walker."

Meyers, Kelly, and Grant filed into the room to join the rest of the team.

Lyon leaned back against the wall. "So we have a deserted building, a room where a captive was clearly being contained at some point, another room that has evidence of stored weapons and manufactured IED's, and a dead man."

"It's an episode of _CSI: Iraq,"_ Kelly quipped.

"Maybe they were tipped off somehow, and rushed to clear out of here and move Agent Walker before we could come in," Grant suggested.

Lyon frowned. "Possible. They certainly left in a hurry. But what about the body? The rifle makes me think he was probably supposed to be on guard duty. But he's here – and dead – and Agent Walker isn't." He ran a hand through his hair. "Maybe he helped her escape, and was killed for it. Or someone else here helped her, and he died because he was incompetent and failed to prevent it."

"Then she'll need shelter, somewhere out of sight of Sayid and his people," Meyers said. "Most local civilians probably wouldn't be willing to risk their safety – and their family members' lives, too, for that matter – to shelter an American woman. They know she's a high-value target and people are looking for her, and aiding her would put a big bulls-eye target on them too. She might be able to bribe someone, or network with some of the resistance groups that are working against the insurgents and are friendly to Americans."

"Hospitals and clinics," Carter spoke up, studying the photos of Renee. "She won't get far at all with those wounds. She needs medical attention."

"We'll put the word out," Major Williams said over the comms network. "Ask some of the Iraqi interpreters and workers in the Green Zone to keep their ears open. People are nosy; everybody is always watching everybody else. Maybe they'll hear something about an American woman being spotted, or a security guard who's assigned to an American patient at a hospital or clinic."

"And advise squads on patrol to be aware of a possible increase in IED attacks and ambushes," Ortiz said grimly. "There were weapons and explosives kept here at some point, fairly recently. We don't know what all they had here, or what they plan to do with it. According to that photo, at least two of Sayid's people were involved in placing IED's. If Agent Walker did escape, Sayid's going to be furious. He might step up and launch attacks against our personnel to retaliate."

Lyon sighed. "We're done here. Move out."

..


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

The door to the hospital room was slightly ajar. Laila turned her head and caught sight of Jack standing in the doorway. The Air Force lieutenant sitting next to the bed turned to see what she was looking at.

"Come in," Laila said, motioning for Jack to enter. Her voice was hoarse and raspy, a result of being intubated. The breathing tube had been removed from her throat, replaced by a simple nasal cannula.

Laila wrinkled her nose and reached up to tug gently at the tubing. "Itches," she muttered, annoyed, fiddling with the prongs in her nose.

Jack sat down in the other chair in the corner of the room. "It's good to see you awake. How do you feel?"

She shrugged. "Weak. Tired. Hurting. But alive," she added.

Jack smiled. "And we're very thankful for that."

Her expression darkened. "I'm so sorry, Agent Bauer."

"For what?"

"For this." Laila swept her arm in an arc, gesturing to herself, the room, and Jack. "This should not have happened. Adnan, Hakim, and Yousif are dead. You and I are injured. And Agent Walker was captured. None of this should have happened. I'm sorry."

Jack shook his head. "No. You have nothing to apologize for. We had no way of knowing what Sayid would do. Until this happened, Malik's brother wasn't even on our radar. We didn't know who he was, and didn't know he was a threat. You and the other agents did everything you could. You don't need to apologize. _Hal tafham? _Understand?"

She nodded, smiling slightly at his use of the Arabic phrase.

Jack glanced at the lieutenant, and the laptop computer on the table next to him. "Debriefing?"

"Yes, sir."

Laila wearily ran a hand over her face. "You can't really call this a debrief, I think," she said. "Really more of an information briefing for me. I remember that we were driving, and there was an explosion, then a crash. Then nothing. I woke up here with gunshot wounds, tubes, and bandages. I don't remember the shooting, the faces of any of the hostiles, anything."

"You told her the rest?" Jack asked.

The lieutenant nodded. "Yes, sir. We told her about the ambush, Agent Walker's kidnapping, and Sayid. Everything we have so far."

Laila sighed. "I wish I could tell you more, but… no. Nothing." She grimaced at the expression on Jack's face. "I am so sorry."

"Don't apologize," he told her. "None of this is your fault. You did what you could."

The seventy-two hour timetable screamed at him. Over and over, Jack thought of Sayid's smug taunting. _Do you know what cats like to do to their prey? They play with injured mice. You know, maiming them, watching them suffer, taunting them as they try to get away, and then finally, mercifully, killing them._ The threat behind his words was blatantly obvious.

Jack thought of the empty room with its blankets and blood splatters, and the deceased guard. He prayed that it meant what they thought it did, that Renee was somewhere outside of Sayid's clutches. The alternative, that Sayid had whisked her away and hidden her somewhere else, was one that he didn't want to consider.

Laila met his gaze as he got to his feet. Jack gently touched her shoulder, saying nothing. He left the room, leaving Laila and the lieutenant to finish their debriefing.

**/ / / / /**

Renee's gaze landed on the glass of water sitting on the bedside table. Gritting her teeth, she sat up slightly and reached for it. A flicker of movement and a flash of color on the other side of the room caught her attention.

A man stood just inside the doorway, dressed in a dark blue uniform, with an AK-47 slung over his shoulder.

Renee recoiled in shock and surprise. The glass toppled over, sending water splashing onto the table and floor, narrowly missing the side of her bed. Her heart pounded. _Oh, God, no! _One of Sayid's henchmen had found her; now they would surely kill her…

The man quickly held up his hands. "No, no! It's okay!" he said hastily in heavily accented English.

"Who _are _you?" she demanded.

"My name is Anwar. They tell me to watch you, to protect you. Understand?"

"Yes." Renee exhaled hard. "I-I thought you were…" She trailed off and ran a hand over her face.

"I'm sorry," he apologized. "I don't mean to scare you. There are three of us. Always, there will be someone in the hallway or here by the door."

Anwar stepped out of the way as a woman entered the room. Judging by her white blouse, skirt, and head scarf, Renee assumed she was a nurse. She smiled. The woman nodded politely, but did not smile back.

"What's your name?" Renee asked her.

She wrinkled her nose. "No English."

"_Shu ismak?"_ Renee repeated the question in Arabic.

The woman raised an eyebrow. "An American who speaks Arabic?" Her expression was unreadable. _"Ismi _Arwa," she added curtly.

"_Tasharafna. _Nice to meet you."

Arwa didn't reply.

Renee obediently took a deep breath as a stethoscope was pressed against her chest. The breath caught in her throat, turning into a cough. Pain blazed through her chest and side, bringing tears to her eyes.

Arwa pulled the stethoscope away, waiting until Renee caught her breath. "Ow," she managed. "That hurt."

"Your ribs." The nurse pointed to her right side. "You have two cracked ribs on that side."

Renee grimaced. _Well, that would explain it._ She looked down at her battered body. "What else?"

Arwa picked up her chart from the foot of the bed and studied it. "Some cuts and bruises. Sprained ankle. Two cracked ribs. Lashes from a whip on your back, which are infected. A knife wound on your neck, also infected." All of this was stated very matter-of-factly, simply reading a list from a page. "You understand?"

She nodded grimly. "Yes."

Arwa set the folder down and wrapped a blood pressure cuff around her left arm. Renee winced slightly at the pressure as it was inflated, but didn't protest. Arwa removed the cuff and recorded the numbers in her chart. "Do you need to use the toilet?" She pointed to the small bathroom in the corner of the room. "While I'm here to help you, do you think you can walk over there?"

Renee shrugged. "I can try." She carefully sat up, closing her eyes as the room spun. After the wave of dizziness passed, she slowly slid to the edge of the bed and swung her legs over the side.

Her sprained ankle ached, but she could bear weight on it. She limped slowly across the room, gritting her teeth against the dizziness and pain, with Arwa half guiding and half carrying her.

The bathroom was tiny, the tile floor cracked and the paint peeling slightly, but it was clean. And there was a toilet – a vast improvement over the reeking bucket that had been in her cell.

Renee leaned awkwardly against the sink, using it for balance and desperately trying not to fall over as she washed her hands.

The nurse held her upright as she staggered back across the room. Even that pitifully short walk was exhausting. Her bed felt like it was miles away. She collapsed onto the thin mattress with a sigh of relief.

Arwa reached for the glass of water that had been on the bedside table, then frowned as she spotted the mess on the floor. Renee ducked her head, embarrassed. "It spilled." She felt like a little kid who had made a mess at the dinner table.

Arwa cleaned up the spilled water and carefully swept the broken glass into the trash. "I'll get you some more."

Renee watched as she left. "One of the meanings of her name is _pleasant,_ but she doesn't seem very friendly," she remarked to Anwar.

"She doesn't like Americans," he informed her. "The soldiers, or the people who work with them."

"Which includes me," Renee said incredulously. "But they thought it was a good idea to have her take care of me? Why?"

Anwar shook his head. "No, no. She is a good person. She won't hurt you. Don't worry."

"I am a nurse, not a monster," Arwa said, stepping back into the room with a tray. She had reached the doorway in time to hear Anwar's statement. "You are a patient. I may hate what you stand for," she said bitterly, "but I won't do anything to hurt you. Don't worry about that." She held out the tray. "You should try to eat." Renee eyed it. "You look like you think it's poison," Arwa said wryly. "It's safe, I promise. Go ahead, eat."

There was a small bowl of vegetable soup, and a piece of pita to dip in it. A simple meal, but the soup was hot and smelled wonderful.

"Eat slowly," Arwa warned as she placed the food in front of Renee and helped her sit up. "If you can keep that down, we'll bring you a little more food later."

Renee took a spoonful of the soup and blew on it, then cautiously tasted it. Satisfied that she was sitting up and eating, the nurse left the room.

"Your Arabic is very good," Anwar said approvingly. "Much better than my English. I only know a little."

Renee smiled. "Thank you." She ate another spoonful of soup. "So, I have a nurse taking care of me who despises me. What about you? Are you here only because you were assigned to be?"

"I was told to guard you," Anwar said. "But I also like the Americans who I've met. The soldiers have been good people, and they treat my family well. My brother speaks very good English. He has a job as a translator."

"Oh, really?" She looked up from her meal, surprised. "Dangerous work. People who work with the Americans are prime targets for the insurgents."

"We know." Anwar nodded grimly. "He uses a false name, like most of the others do. He knows the risks. But he thinks the soldiers are good people, and he is proud to be able to work with them. He works at the Balad base."

Renee's heart leaped at this news. She tried to keep her excitement and hope from showing on her face. _Maybe... maybe… _

She smiled. "He sounds like a good man."

Anwar reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out an orange. Sitting down in the rickety plastic chair in the doorway, he peeled the fruit and popped a slice into his mouth.

He broke off a section of the orange and held it out to her. "Here."

"Oh, thank you." Renee took it, pulled the three slices apart, and bit into one. Sweet, tangy juice filled her mouth. "Delicious. That's the best thing I've tasted in days."

The room fell silent as they both ate. The only sounds were the clink of Renee's spoon in the bowl, and quiet chewing as they ate their shared orange.

..


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

US Marine Sergeant Todd Keller gripped the steering wheel of his Humvee as the two vehicles moved through the streets of Hadi Suhayl.

Four children, three boys and a girl, jumped up and down and waved excitedly. _"Ameriki! Ameriki!" _they shouted.

Keller slowed down to navigate around a produce truck in the lane ahead of them, and the children took the opportunity to sprint over to the Humvee. Keller tensed uneasily as he eyed them. The American military members saw cute, friendly kids who wanted a piece of candy, a toy, or a chance to high-five and say hello to the _Amerikis._ The insurgents, however, saw opportunities for distraction and diversion – they weren't above using innocent civilians as shields for their attacks.

It was that kind of war. Insurgents hid among civilians, shooting at US and coalition forces from inside ambulances, and from doors and windows of houses where women and children cowered in corners. They dressed in civilian clothes and pretended to be friends and allies, but concealed grenades, guns, and suicide vests under their clothes.

Still, Keller couldn't help smiling back at the group clustered around their vehicle. _"Salaam."_

All four of them giggled at the tall white American man speaking Arabic. _"Salaam, Ameriki!" _

Corporal Jonathan Riley rummaged in one of the bags on the floor, and found several small pieces of candy. The children's eyes lit up. Small hands reached out, some tugging at his sleeve, others reaching for the treats that he held. He grinned as he carefully handed two pieces to each of them.

"Thank you," two of the boys chorused in English.

"_Shukran,"_ the girl added shyly, her voice barely above a whisper.

"_Afwan, _you're welcome," Sergeant Keller answered. He held up his hand, and the boy closest to him happily gave him a high-five. Keller smiled as he made a shooing motion, pointing to the other side of the street. "Go on. _Imshi, imshi."_ His tone was friendly, non-threatening, but let them know that it was time to move.

They dashed back across the street, clutching their treats, waving and shouting, "Bye-bye, _Ameriki!"_

Keller steered around the large truck in front of them, and the two Humvees continued on their way. The team of Marines intently studied their surroundings, keeping an eye out for any signs of potential IED's or other hazards. They rolled through the streets, passing produce stands filled with colorful fruit and vegetables, vendors hawking their wares, and people milling in front of shops and houses.

As they approached an intersection, Keller slowed and reached for his radio. "Which way? Do I go right or lef – " The last letter in _left_ was drowned out by two deafening bangs, a massive roar, and a blast of heat.

The explosion ripped through the front and under-side of the Humvee, tearing a gaping hole in the vehicle's frame, leaving a mess of twisted metal and badly damaged armor plates. The Humvee lifted into the air, then crashed back down onto the pavement, landing on three wheels. The shredded right front tire was launched through the air and landed in a smoldering heap on the side of the road.

The voice of Sergeant Greg Miles, in the second Humvee behind them, echoed over the radio network."IED! IED! We're hit!"

Keller sat still, stunned, blinded by swirling dust and smoke, his ears ringing loudly.

_Noises. Screams. We're hurt._

_Somebody moaning. Who is that? _

He turned his head, trying to find the source of the sound. Gradually, he realized that the pitiful moaning was coming from him. The pain radiating through his right leg was excruciating.

_Who's yelling?_

The cries of pain and fear were coming from the backseat. Turning, Keller saw Private First Class Brian Clark with both hands pressed against the right side of his face. Blood spilled from between his fingers. "My eye! I can't see! God, it hurts!" The words were slightly garbled, but the panic in his tone was unmistakable.

Next to him, Corporal Joshua Nichols was clutching his left arm, applying pressure to a deep bloody gash near his shoulder.

Riley hadn't made a sound. Keller turned to look at the man in the passenger seat next to him, and froze. He was slumped forward, his head lolling to one side. Blood covered his neck and right side, trickling over the front of his uniform and the seat. His breathing was shallow and uneven. The man's eyelids fluttered, and Keller saw a brief flash of blue as his eyes opened ever so slightly. A faint moan escaped his throat, and his eyes closed again.

_Med kit,_ Keller thought dazedly. _Blood everywhere… all of us… need the kit._ The tan canvas first-aid bags held tourniquets, bandages, and other supplies that they desperately needed. He glanced around, searching.

"How are you, sir?" Nichols asked. "Are you hurt?"

"Yeah," Keller managed. "I am." He studied his legs. His left foot was wedged between a broken portion of the dashboard, and a jagged chunk of metal that had once been part of the floor. He cautiously leaned on his injured right leg, bracing it, trying to gain some footing so he could pull the left foot free. Pain exploded through his leg, and he collapsed back against the seat with a strangled yelp and a groan. _Oh, God… I really am hurt… _He stared at the bloody, mangled mess that had previously been a functioning leg.

The door to the Humvee flew open, and Keller felt a pair of hands tugging at him. One gripped the shoulder strap of his vest, and the other wrapped around his waist. He arched his back, and a scream burst from his mouth. "Sorry." That was Miles' voice. "I've got you."

"Here." That was Corporal Nick Snyder. Keller heard the thump of his medical kit hitting the ground, and then the man joined Miles in dragging him out of the Humvee. He swallowed another cry, balled his hands into fists, and dug his fingernails into his palms. They carefully laid him on the dusty ground, and Snyder knelt over him.

"Get Riley… he's bad…" Keller managed.

"We've got him," Miles answered. "You just stay there."

"How are you?"

"We're okay. Snyder and I are fine, Austin's got some shrapnel wounds to his face and hand, and Morrison has a possible concussion. We're all dizzy and shaken up – we got rattled and bounced around pretty good. But you're the ones who took the direct hit. You're worse off than we are."

Snyder worked quickly, fastening a tactical tourniquet around the bleeding leg and cinching it tightly. Keller cried out in pain. "Sorry, sir. I've got to get the bleeding under control."

He nodded, groaning through clenched teeth. "My leg's a mess," he managed.

"No, you're good," Snyder said calmly. "You'll be fine." Keller was trembling, and his teeth chattered. "Are you cold?"

"No," he bit out. "The pain. Hurts."

Next to them, Miles had ripped off Riley's body armor and was desperately trying to stop the bleeding from his wounds.

Somewhere nearby, Clark's screams and cries had quieted to moans.

Keller heard Snyder and Nichols moving between the wounded men.

"Where's QRF?" Snyder asked, referring to the Quick Reaction Force. "We need reinforcements and a medevac _now._ We're sitting ducks out here."

"QRF is en route, coming as fast as they can. Ten minutes out," Miles answered. "The closest medevac chopper already has patients on board. ETA for the next one is approximately twenty minutes."

Snyder shook his head grimly. "We don't have that kind of time!"

"Psst! _Ameriki, _hey!" a man's voice hissed in accented English. Miles jerked upright, and Snyder whirled around, bringing his rifle up to bear. A young man, no older than twenty or twenty-one, had emerged from a nearby alley. As he caught sight of the rifle pointed towards him, his hands flew up to where the Marines could see them. "No! Don't shoot!" He motioned with one hand. "Come_,_ _Ameriki, _over here." They remained frozen in place, eyeing him warily, Snyder's finger poised tensely on the rifle trigger. "Come," the man repeated urgently, glancing up and down the street. "They will look for you."

"_Who?"_ Miles demanded.

"The ones who do that," the man replied, gesturing to the damaged Humvees and bleeding men. He pointed to a field on the other side of the road. "Maybe there, watching. You should not be out like this. Come, hide."

Snyder gestured for the man to hold out his arms, and pantomimed what he wanted him to do. With the Marines watching warily, the man obediently patted himself down and shook out the folds of his loose _dishdasha_ robe, showing that he wasn't carrying any weapons or wearing an explosive vest.

"Fine," Miles decided. "Let's move. We need to get the hell out of here. _Now."_

The battered men quickly teamed up. Clark, blindfolded by a blood-soaked dressing on his face, leaned on Nichols' good right arm.

"Morrison, how are you holding up?" Snyder said over his shoulder.

Corporal Eric Morrison turned towards him, staggering slightly. His face was pale. "Dizzy. My head hurts. I think I can walk, though."

PFC Dan Austin crouched down to Keller's level. "I'll get you, sir. Lean on me." Keller eyed the blood covering his forehead and right hand. "I'm good, sir," Austin said calmly. Together, he and Snyder carefully lifted Keller upright. "Okay, I've got him," Austin said, shifting to balance Keller's weight.

Snyder let go, and turned to help Miles pick up Riley.

They moved towards the alley that the young Iraqi man had emerged from. "Come," he urged, pointing to the door across the alley from where they stood.

The Marines followed behind him, piling into the empty room. He quickly closed the door behind them, and pointed down the narrow hallway. "Two rooms there. Empty."

The building was deserted and dark. There was no furniture, no rugs or cushions on the floor, nothing hanging on the walls. At some point during the war, the windows had been blown out, and several walls riddled with bullets and shrapnel.

When they reached the rooms at the end of the hallway, both doors were ajar. Miles tentatively peered into each room, and found that the one on the right had a window covered with a tattered, faded curtain.

The exhausted men moved into the room and fairly collapsed.

Even with Austin carrying most of his weight, Keller couldn't stay upright any longer. He slumped against the wall and slid down to the floor.

Miles and Snyder carefully lowered Riley's limp form to the floor. Miles grimaced as he reached for the medical kit and knelt next to the badly wounded young man. "Don't you _dare_ die on us, Riley," he said fiercely. "Come on."

Nichols and Austin took up positions near the window and propped their rifles against the wall. They stared out the window, intently studying their surroundings, carefully watching for any signs of approaching threats.

Snyder made the rounds to the rest of the wounded, checking them over.

"I think you'll have a nice scar there," he said to Austin, taping a dressing over the wound on his forehead. "Kind of like Harry Potter."

"Chicks dig scars, you know," Nichols said.

The young man grimaced. "You know how much Amanda worries. This won't go over well with her… or my parents, for that matter."

"Well, you could not mention the IED. Tell them you fought off a zombie horde or something instead."

Austin laughed, then grunted in pain. "Ow, damn it. Don't make me laugh."

Clark was quiet now, bearing the pain in stoic silence, but his clenched fists and rigid body showed that he was hurting. The dressing on his face covered both eyes, leaving him unable to see. He leaned his head back against the wall and tried not to move.

"If you're looking for signs of intelligent life, you'll have to look someplace else," Morrison groaned when Snyder reached him. "My head's killing me, I'm dizzy, and I can barely think straight."

"If you're going to throw up, try not to do it on me," Keller managed.

Morrison's lips twitched in a brief, feeble smile. "Yes, sir."

"Let me see that leg, sir. Bleeding looks like it's under control," Snyder observed, inspecting the tourniquet and dressing.

"Hurts," Keller groaned. "Bad." The pain was white-hot, searing, agonizing. His hand drifted to the breast pocket on his jacket, and he felt the picture of Rachel and four-year-old Katie that he always kept there. He willed himself not to look at his mangled leg, and tried not to think about stumps, empty shoes, cyborg-looking prosthetics, or his wife and daughter's reaction to his injuries.

"Stay with me," Snyder ordered. "Keep your eyes open and keep talking." He unzipped a pouch in the medical bag and produced an IV kit and an auto-injector syringe. "I'll give you a shot of morphine, and I'm going to try to get a line placed in your arm."

Keller held out an arm. He turned his head away and looked up at the young Iraqi man standing by the door. "What's your name?"

"Naji," he answered.

As Snyder worked, Keller kept his gaze on the young man. He gritted his teeth, trying to ignore the pain blazing through his leg, willing himself to stay conscious and alert. Talking took effort, but he forced the words out. "Why are you helping us, Naji?"

"Because those men are very bad. They say they are good Muslims. They say they fight for Allah and for Iraq. But this no good."

"Did you see them plant that IED?" Miles asked. "The explosive that did this to us?"

Naji nodded. "Not this one, but I see others before. Today, I see them in that field. Very dirty hands and feet. This means digging. Dig holes to put bombs."

"So you know who did this?" Austin spoke up, his tone sharp and forceful.

"Not their names. But yes, we know them. Much power. Very strong, very bad." Naji stared at him. "You think, why don't we stop them? Why don't we tell? Because they kill people who do this. If they know I tell about them, then I am dead. And maybe my family dies too, my parents and my little brother. I do not want this."

He held up his right hand and bent down the last two fingers, leaving three sticking up. "One man, his hand looks like this. Fingers missing."

"What are the odds?" Nichols said quietly.

Keller clumsily reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a printed copy of the photos that had been circulated to American and coalition forces.

Nichols took them from him. "Naji, there's someone who we're looking for. Someone who we want to find. We think they might work in and around this city." He held out the two pictures of Agent Renee Walker and Ahmad Sayid's men. "I know those men have masks on, but look, that one has fingers like you told us about."

Naji took the two photos and studied them. "Yes. This man, I know him. Those missing fingers. And his feet, the shoes. I see him walking in those shoes." He pointed to the man in the picture, with grimy, worn black-and-white tennis shoes on his feet.

Before any of the Marines could speak, Naji pointed to Agent Walker and continued, "She is the American from the video."

"What video?" Miles demanded.

"On TV yesterday," Naji said. "The men hide their faces, but not voices. We know their voices. They… how do you say in English? Brag? Talk about how they have this American woman."

"You've seen her? She's alive?"

"In the video, she was. But they say if they don't get what they want, she dies in three days. Already, it has been almost two days."

"We know," Miles said grimly. "That's why it's so important for us to find her. Do you know where she could be?"

Naji looked at him incredulously. "How would I know this? I don't know them," he said sharply.

Miles held up his hands. "I didn't mean that. You're a good man, not like them. I'm sorry. I meant that people talk, and you might have heard someone."

Naji shook his head. "No. If they tell anything, they will be dead." He drew a finger across his throat in a cutting motion. "And the one who they tell will probably die, too."

They all knew the risk he was taking. _"Shukran k'tir," _Snyder told him. "Thank you for helping us." The man nodded silently, solemnly.

"How's Riley?" Keller asked quietly.

Snyder grimaced, shaking his head. "Bad."

_Hurry up,_ Keller thought desperately, silently willing the rescue helicopters to fly faster.

Snyder eyed him. "How are _you_ holding up?"

"Hurting. Dizzy. Cold. Hard to stay awake."

Miles pulled a thin foil emergency blanket out of one of the medical kits and gently covered him with it, being careful not to jostle his leg. "Don't you dare fall asleep," he ordered sharply. "Stay awake. You know that."

"Oh, shit," Austin said suddenly. "We've got company. Eight males, approaching from that field at two o'clock. Eight AK-47's and possibly one RPG. Six on foot, two in a pickup truck."

"Six minutes after the blast. I guess they weren't close enough to hear the big boom from their handiwork right away. Nice of them to join the party," Nichols said grimly.

Naji's eyes were wide with terror. "They will kill me," he choked.

"They'd have to get here for that to happen, and it won't," Nichols said over his shoulder.

At the same time, Austin yelled, _"RPG, two o'clock!"_

Nichols and the insurgent fired at the same time. The sound of Nichols' gunshot was drowned out by the whistle of the incoming round, then a thunderous explosion. The building shook, walls rattled, and plaster dust rained from the ceiling. "Nice try. He missed, and I took him out."

Before anyone could answer, they heard the roar of approaching helicopters, followed by rapid gunfire. The Apache AH-64 helicopter swooped into view and unleashed a barrage, spraying the hostiles and their truck with hundreds of 30mm rounds.

Two Black Hawk UH-60's with large red crosses on their sides swept in behind the Apache and settled down in the field, their rotors kicking up clouds of dust.

A weak, feeble cheer went up from the battered group of Marines. "Hallelujah," Miles said. "Just in time. I'll go meet them. Nobody go anywhere while I'm gone."

"Where's Naji?" Nichols spoke up suddenly. All of the Marines glanced around the room, puzzled and surprised. "He was by the door. He disappeared, just slipped out of here."

Miles peered down the hallway. "I don't see him out here. I'll look for him on the way out."

Four Air Force Pararescue medics entered the room. Keller stared at the black patches with two bold white letters – "PJ" – on their shoulders and helmets, and American flags on their shoulders. "Damn, it's good to see you. I take back any comments I've ever made about the Air Force," Morrison quipped. Laughter rippled through the room.

"Thanks, Marine. For that, we'll be sure to take extra-good care of you," one of the PJ's shot back.

Playful joking aside, the two teams of medics quickly assessed their patients and decided how to divide them up for transport. Keller, Clark, Austin, and Nichols would go on one helicopter. Riley, Morrison, Snyder, and Miles would be taken on the other.

"Just relax, we've got you now," one of the men said calmly as they made their way outside to the waiting helicopters. "We're taking you to Balad. They'll take great care of you there. Let's move."

..


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

**SIX HOURS LATER**

"Agent Bauer?" Jack jumped, startled. Major Williams pointed to the spaghetti on his plate. "Are you eating that, or just pushing it around to make it _look_ like you're eating?"

Jack smiled slightly. "Both. It's good; I'm just not very hungry."

"Well, maybe some good news will improve your appetite. I came to bring you over to the TOC. We've located Agent Walker."

Jack stood up so quickly that he nearly knocked his chair over. "How good is the intel?"

"Very," the major said. "The team's meeting in the TOC now for briefing." Jack quickly cleaned up his trash and followed him out the door, to where a Humvee sat parked and waiting nearby.

When they walked into the Tactical Operations Center, the room was already crowded with people, a mixture of Army and Air Force uniforms. Jack quickly sat down in the nearest empty chair. He found himself seated between Jamie and an Iraqi man in camouflage fatigues, obviously one of the base's interpreters.

The man smiled politely and held out a hand for Jack to shake. "I am Ali." Jack knew that wasn't his name. All of the local interpreters working with coalition forces used aliases for safety.

Jack returned the handshake. "Jack Bauer."

Ali's eyes widened slightly. Before he could say anything, Major Williams walked to the front of the room. The projector screen lit up, displaying the same photo of Renee, taken from her FBI personnel file. Jack felt a sense of déjà vu.

"Here's the timeline of events so far. Five days ago, Renee Walker was ambushed and kidnapped by Ahmad Sayid. Thirty-six hours ago, Sayid issued an ultimatum and threatened to execute her if his demands weren't met within seventy-two hours. Roughly thirteen hours after that message, our personnel traced his phone calls to a location in Taji and staged a mission to rescue Agent Walker. They found the location where she had been held, but she was no longer there."

Several pictures of the warehouse in Taji appeared on the screen. "The team found evidence that the building had been used to store weapons and manufacture IED's. We know that at least two of Sayid's people are actively building and placing IED's to use against our forces. Earlier today, a squad of Marines on patrol in the town of Hadi Suhayl encountered one of their devices." Murmurs rippled through the room. "Six came away with minor shrapnel wounds, nasty headaches, and medical restrictions from duty until the concussion symptoms heal. Two sustained serious injuries, and will be transported to Landstuhl Medical Center in Germany on a flight some time tomorrow. One more is in extremely critical condition." His voice trailed off. He didn't need to elaborate. "Communication blackout procedures are in effect until family notifications have been made."

There were a few moments of silence before the major continued. "A local civilian brought them off of the street and to shelter until QRF and medevac arrived. The six who were able to debrief and provide a report said that he mentioned hostile forces in and around Hadi Suhayl. They're associated with Ahmad Sayid. No names, but apparently their reputation is well-known and feared among local civilians. Needless to say, now that we have intel about their operations, we'll be increasing our presence there and hopefully paying them a visit," he added wryly. "When the Marines showed him photos of Agent Walker, he pointed to one of Sayid's men who was holding her, and positively identified him as someone who operates in that area. He also identified Agent Walker. Apparently Sayid released a video of her, bragging that they had captured an American."

"And that brings us to our current situation. Two and a half hours ago, we received new intel, and we have a positive ID on where she is located."

"How good is the source?" a voice spoke up from the back of the room. "And how recent is the intel?"

"Very," Major Williams answered. Three photos flashed onto the screen. Jack leaned forward in his chair, staring at them. One was of a small hospital room, with a person lying in the bed, but the picture had been taken too far away to be able to tell who it was. The other two were much closer, and it was easy to identify Renee. In both pictures, she was lying on her side with her eyes closed – either unconscious or asleep. The pictures were slightly blurry; they had apparently been taken quickly and discreetly, but there was no mistaking that it was her.

"These were taken earlier today, at Al-Kindi hospital in Baghdad." Major Williams pointed to Ali, sitting next to Jack. "A lot of you know Ali and have worked with him. His brother works as a security guard at Al-Kindi. Anwar came to us, along with Ali, a few hours ago. These pictures are from him. His current assignment at the hospital is providing security for an American patient who was brought to them yesterday. Renee Walker." Applause and cheers rippled through the room, and Major Williams smiled and nodded. "So, our objective is to retrieve Agent Walker from Al-Kindi and transport her back here to Balad."

"Remember what happened the last time our forces staged a rescue from a hospital? In 2003?" Sergeant Ortiz spoke up dryly.

In 2003, a joint force of Navy SEALs, Marines, Army Rangers, and Air Force pilots and PJ Pararescue medics had carried out a mission to retrieve Army Private Jessica Lynch and nine deceased soldiers from Saddam General Hospital in Nasiriyah. The hospital was a safe house for Baath Party officials, regime loyalists, intelligence agents, and Fedayeen militia. Knowing that the American military wouldn't intentionally bomb a hospital, they used the basement as their headquarters and the staff and patients as shields.

On the night of April 1, the team swept through the hospital with flash-bang grenades and rifles at the ready, ordering staff and patients to get down on the floor. There were no hostiles waiting, no one lurking with AK-47's and RPG's to ambush the rescuers. As American forces had closed in on Nasiriyah, the insurgents had fled, abandoning their weapons and uniforms. The US military had been heavily criticized for storming into a hospital filled with civilians.

Major Williams nodded grimly, acknowledging the point. "Fortunately, this time, things are more straightforward. The intel that Anwar gave us shows that this is a civilian hospital, nothing more. There's no evidence of insurgents. Be alert and on guard, of course; that goes without saying. But, based on current intel, there's no need to go in with force." He gestured to Master Sergeant Mitchell. "I'll let him give you the mission specifics."

Mitchell stood up as the major walked to an empty chair and sat down. "By all accounts, this should be a straightforward recovery mission."

The screen lit up with two side-by-side images. One was a satellite image of the hospital building, and the other was a building map with a route drawn with blue ink. "Transport will be the same as our previous mission, a Black Hawk with Apache escort. Helicopters will land in the courtyard next to the hospital, and you'll enter the building here." He pointed to the door on the map. "Anwar marked the route to Agent Walker's room. She's on the second floor, at the far end of the hallway. We'll have an eight-man team. Seven, plus Ali as interpreter. Nelson, Cruz, Luttrell, Voodoo, Spider, Davis, and Carter."

"Voodoo?" Jack whispered to Jamie. "How'd you end up with that nickname?"

"Long story," Jamie replied with a laugh.

They quickly turned their attention back to Mitchell as he continued. "Six will go in to retrieve Agent Walker – five, plus Ali – and two will stay with the helicopter. Spider and Cruz, you two will be responsible for transporting her. Carter and Davis, you'll pull security. Luttrell and Voodoo are medical. Luttrell, you'll go in with them, just in case something should come up and you need medical support inside – although you _are_ in a hospital!" he added wryly. "Voodoo, you'll stay at the helicopter with Nelson, and meet them when they come out. Copy?"

"Yes, sir," the crew of soldiers and airmen answered.

Jack made eye contact with Major Williams. This time, he didn't need to ask. The major nodded. "Same conditions as last time," he said. "I can't arm you, and you can't go in with the team. But you're welcome to go along on the chopper. Any objections?" he added, looking at the team. There were none.

"All right. Wheels up will be at 2100 hours tonight."

. .


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

The sound of footsteps and muffled voices drifted into the room from the hallway. Renee craned her neck and caught sight of a man standing outside her door. _That's not Anwar,_ she realized. This man was older, shorter, and had a stockier build. He carried a pistol in a shoulder holster, instead of the AK-47 that Anwar carried.

Then the man stepped away from the door, and Renee spotted Anwar standing next to him. She remembered he'd told her there were three guards who would rotate shifts. This must be one of the other two who she hadn't met.

Their quiet conversation ended, and the man turned and walked away. Anwar glanced into the room and spotted Renee watching them. "That was Nabil," he said. "His shift is over; now it's my turn."

Anwar stepped out of the way as Dr. Hassan appeared in the doorway. "How are you feeling?"

She shrugged. _"Zien. _Good enough."

The doctor smiled at her use of the Iraqi slang phrase. "Good. I have something for you." He glanced over his shoulder, as though making sure that no one was watching, and pulled an envelope from the pocket of his white coat. "I thought you would want to see this."

Renee cautiously took it, opened the flap, and found two photos inside. She studied them for a few seconds, puzzled, before recognizing the little girl as Khalid's daughter. Amal lay in a hospital bed, connected to a tangled myriad of wires and tubes, with a bandage covering the heart-surgery incision that ran down the middle of her chest. Renee immediately noticed the change: instead of a sickly, oxygen-deprived bluish-gray color, Amal's skin was now a healthy pink.

At the bottom of both pictures, Khalid had scribbled a simple, brief message in Arabic. One read, _"Peace", _and the other, _"Thank you."_

Renee studied the pictures. They had been taken at close range, focused in on Amal and the hospital bed. Khalid had obviously done that on purpose – blankets and hospital machinery, no logos, nothing that would identify where they were.

She looked up at Dr. Hassan. "Where did you get these?"

"A friend," he said simply. He held out his hand. "To be safe… just in case… you shouldn't keep them."

"Of course." Renee handed the pictures back to him. "Thank you for showing me."

He picked up her chart from the foot of the bed. "Arwa told me that you were able to walk a little, and you've eaten. That is good. You're still very weak, and still have a fever. But that is progress."

Renee started to answer, but was interrupted by a yawn. The doctor chuckled. "I'll leave and let you rest." He tucked the envelope back into his pocket and left the room.

**/ / / / /**

Renee opened her eyes. The sun had set, and the hospital room was dark. She spotted Anwar's silhouette, sitting in a chair near the door. The monitors next to the bed beeped quietly.

She blinked groggily. What time was it?

Suddenly, the quiet stillness was shattered by a crash, pounding footsteps, and male voices barking orders. She sat bolt upright, her heart pounding.

Anwar leaped to his feet and hurried to the door, peering out into the hallway.

Renee flinched, startled, as a volley of sharp cracking sounds split the air – gunfire from an AK-47.

Anwar staggered backwards, falling against the door, the rifle slipping from his grasp. Renee stared, horrified, as he crumpled to the floor, a dark red stain spreading across the front of his shirt. _"No!" _she cried. "No! No!"

She lunged towards the edge of the bed, shoving the blankets aside, flailing against the tangled monitor cords and IV tubing, ignoring the searing pain that flared in her back and side. She desperately scanned the room, searching for a hiding position and something to use as a weapon.

The door crashed open, slamming against the wall. Two men filled the doorway, dressed in black _shalwar kameez, _their faces concealed behind ski masks. Both of them carried AK-47's, and both of them were aimed in her direction.

Renee nicknamed them _Qaseer _and _Taweel,_ Arabic for "short" and "tall".

"Did you think we wouldn't find you?" the taller one – Taweel – said in Arabic. "Sayid has been looking for you. He didn't want to lose you." The ski mask covered most of his face, leaving only his eyes and mouth visible. He smiled menacingly. The expression sent a chill of fear coursing through Renee's body.

She glanced at the rifle lying next to Anwar's body, gauging the distance, wondering if she could move quickly enough to reach it. Taweel noticed, and smirked slightly as he kicked it, sending it sliding across the floor and out of reach.

The shorter one – Qaseer – aimed his rifle at her. "You try anything, I shoot," he warned in broken English.

Renee shook her head, challenging him. "You won't. Sayid doesn't want you to bring him a dead prisoner."

His dark eyes flashed. _"Taal ihna! Yallah!"_ he ordered, motioning sharply with the rifle, directing her to get up.

Renee looked at him incredulously. Did they expect her to get up and walk out of here? She gestured to her body and the hospital bed. "I-I don't… I can't…"

"Then we will carry you. Or drag you. You will come with us," Taweel snapped in Arabic. "I know you understand," he added. "Sayid told us your Arabic is very good." He lunged to the side of the bed, grabbing her arm with one hand and a fistful of her hair with the other.

Renee fought back as hard as she could.

"_Sharmouta!"_ he cursed, jerking his head back as her fingernails raked across his cheek.

"_Tizak!"_ she retorted. Qaseer gave a sharp bark of laughter.

Taweel yanked the handful of her hair, jerking her head violently. Renee moved with it and head-butted him in the face. She heard a muffled grunt as her head crashed into his nose and chin.

He shoved her backwards. White-hot pain exploded through her back as she fell hard against the bed rail. She cried out, stunned, reeling from the sudden agony.

Qaseer joined in the fray, reaching to grab and subdue her. Out of the corner of her eye, Renee spotted a glint of silver from an object in his hand, and realized it was a needle. She didn't take the time to wonder where he'd gotten the syringe, or what might be in it; she only knew that there was no way in hell she was going to let him inject her with it. Her right foot shot out and caught him squarely in the abdomen, narrowly missing his groin. He staggered, knocked off balance, and her second kick sent him crashing against the wall. The syringe flew out of his hand.

She felt a sharp, stinging pain in her right arm as the IV needle was abruptly yanked out. The sudden, violent movement had been too much for it. The machines next to the bed beeped and chimed with annoying alert tones. The reason why was obvious – Renee's movement had torn the monitors loose, and their cords were a tangled mess on the bed.

As Taweel reached for her, she swung her left arm up and delivered two sharp blows to his neck and throat. Wide-eyed, he clutched at his throat, opening and closing his mouth in a desperate gasp for air. He dropped to the floor, choking and gasping.

Running footsteps in the hallway. "Hey!" a voice yelled from the doorway. Qaseer whirled around, raised his rifle, and fired a short three-shot burst. Renee heard the muffled thump of a falling body hitting the floor. It wasn't hard to figure out why no medical staff had come to investigate the monitor alarms. The thought was sickening. Renee thought of Anwar's lifeless body on the floor, then pictured Arwa and Dr. Hassan, and prayed that they hadn't met the same fate.

Qaseer struck her viciously with the butt of his rifle. The air rushed from her lungs as she doubled over, gasping. That was all the opportunity that he needed. He pounced, grabbing her roughly.

From the hallway, a voice yelled her name. Through a haze of pain and fear, she thought it sounded like Anwar. But that was impossible; he was dead. She braced herself for gunshots, for Qaseer to shoot whoever was shouting.

He shook her harshly, jostling her, as he dragged her out of bed and towards the door.

**/ / / / / **

"Renee! Wake up! _Renee!"_

Her eyes flew open, and she struggled wildly against the hands that were pinning her to the bed.

They tightened their grip. "Lie still! Calm down!"

She stared up into Anwar's face. "No… You… You're dead…." she stammered in Arabic.

He gently shook her shoulder. "You were dreaming. Calm down before you hurt yourself."

Renee blinked and turned her head, studying the room. No armed men, no bullet-riddled bodies on the floor. Slowly, gradually, she realized that she was lying in bed, with Anwar gripping her shoulders and holding her still.

She gasped for air, her chest heaving, trying to draw in a deep breath. She was trembling so violently that her teeth chattered.

"What…?"

Anwar let go and took a step back. _"Kaabuus," _he explained in Arabic. A nightmare. "After Dr. Hassan left, you fell asleep. Then you screamed and started fighting."

Renee remembered fighting with the two men, and her eyes widened. "Did I hurt you?"

He shook his head. "No. You didn't hit me, but came close. You are strong," he said with a wry smile.

Arwa hurried into the room, flicking the light switch on the wall. Renee blinked as the room was suddenly flooded with light.

Her hand came down in a wet spot on the sheets. The IV needle was still connected to the bag, and fluid was still dripping. It lay in a tangled wad of tubing and wet, soggy tape. There was an angry red patch on her skin where the tape had been abruptly ripped loose, and blood trickled from the puncture site. A bruise was already forming.

Arwa stepped over to the bed and silenced the beeping monitors. "I came to bring you more medicine for the pain," she said. "It wore off an hour ago."

That explained the throbbing pain in her back and side, Renee thought.

The nurse took in the scene and pursed her lips. "You tore out your IV. I need to replace that before I can give you anything." She turned off the drip, and collected the tubing and soggy tape. "You're bleeding through the bandages on your back. I'll change those for you."

She discarded the mess of IV supplies and moved back towards the door. "I need to go get supplies. I'll be back."

Renee's heart was still pounding. She leaned back against the pillow and shakily took a few deep breaths, trying to calm down.

Silence had fallen over the room. She did her best to untangle the mussed and twisted sheets, and wrapped herself in them.

Footsteps squeaked in the hallway. These were heavier, and didn't sound like a member of the medical staff. Then Renee heard a quiet male voice in Arabic. "We're looking for the American woman."

She stared at Anwar, wide-eyed, feeling a horrible sense of déjà vu. The pain in her side and back told her that she wasn't dreaming this time. _Oh, God, no..._

Anwar was already moving. He crept over to the door and cautiously peered down the hallway. "Five men," he said quietly. "Soldiers, I think."

"_Whose_ soldiers?" Renee hissed. "Americans or Sayid's men?"

Anwar clutched his AK-47 in a white-knuckled grip. "One has his face covered with a _khaffiyeh. _The others look like American military."

Suddenly, everything seemed to happen at once.

A shadow fell across the doorway, and a man pivoted towards Anwar with a rifle aimed at his chest.

"_No!" _Renee shouted.

Her cry was lost underneath two other yelling voices. "Drop it!" The command came from two voices at once, one in Arabic, the other in English. "Put it down! _Now!"_

Anwar didn't hesitate. The AK-47 clattered to the floor as he held up his hands.

Four more men entered the room. One of them went to Anwar and briskly patted him down. The first man, the English speaker who had commanded Anwar to drop the rifle, turned to face Renee. "Agent Renee Walker?" he asked. She stared at him, stunned, taking in the sight. Tall… blond hair… camouflage uniform… American flag patch on his shoulder. His face broke into a smile as he held out his hand. "Ma'am, I'm Specialist Chris Webb, US Army."


	21. Chapter 21

Here's the rescue that everyone's been waiting for. :-) This part ended up being quite long by the time I was finished with it, so I split it up into two chapters.

. .

Chapter 21

The small room was crammed with people. Dr. Hassan standing in the doorway, Anwar leaning against the wall, and six men in American military uniforms. Two stood near the door, rifles slung across their chests, watching everything.

"How did you find me?" Renee asked.

"We had some inside help," Specialist Webb said simply. Renee remembered Anwar telling her that his brother was an interpreter for the US military. Her gaze landed on the Iraqi man who was accompanying the team, now standing next to Anwar. His face was hidden behind a carefully wrapped _khaffiyeh_ scarf, and the two men hadn't directly acknowledged each other, but it wasn't hard to put two and two together. Anwar followed her gaze, saw who she was looking at, and gave her a silent, discreet nod.

"Ma'am?" a voice spoke up. Renee turned to face the man standing next to her bed. His name patch and Air Force rank insignia identified him as "Staff Sergeant Luttrell." She spotted the black patches with two bold white letters – "PJ" – on his shoulder and helmet, and realized that he was a Pararescue medic. He produced a square of gauze from his pack, pointing to the blood trickling down her arm from the IV site. "You're bleeding. Here. Hold pressure on that for a little while."

"Call me Renee," she told him. She took the gauze, wiped away the blood that had smeared over her arm and hand, and firmly pressed it down onto the bleeding wound. "Thanks."

Staff Sergeant Luttrell stepped over to the doorway and began a quiet conversation with Dr. Hassan.

The men introduced themselves one by one. Webb, Cruz, Carter, and Davis. The _khaffiyeh-_wearing Iraqi man, apparently the team's interpreter, introduced himself as Ali. Renee knew that was an alias.

She glanced around the room, searching for a familiar face. "Jack?"

One of the soldiers lifted his head, looking surprised. "Yes, ma'am?"

"Not you," Luttrell told him. "She meant Bauer." He turned to face Renee. "He's outside on the helicopter, waiting with our two men out there. You can see him once we get you on board."

Arwa appeared in the doorway, carrying a container of supplies. She stopped in her tracks, startled, staring at the armed American military men.

Luttrell motioned for her to come in. As she set the IV kit and bandages on the bedside table, he shook his head. "You don't need to do that." The comment was directed at both her and Renee. "We've got supplies on the helicopter. We'll take care of you there." Ali repeated this in Arabic. Arwa was clearly glad to put as much distance as possible between herself and the soldiers. She picked up her supplies and turned towards the door.

"_Shukran k'tir,"_ Renee said in Arabic. "Thank you." Arwa nodded once, giving her the slightest hint of a smile. Then she hurried out of the room.

Two of the men – Webb and Cruz, Renee remembered – carried a black collapsible stretcher over to the bed. "I can walk," she protested.

"Across the room, maybe," Luttrell said. "But all the way downstairs and out to the helicopter, no way." He studied her. "Where do you hurt? What's bothering you the most?"

"My back and my right side."

"Okay. Once we're on board, I'll start an IV line, get you some meds, and take a look at those wounds." Luttrell indicated the two men carrying the stretcher. "Specialist Webb – also known as Spider – and Corporal Cruz are going to transport you out of here. With your wounds, I think lying on your left side would be the most comfortable position. Do you want us to do the work for you, or do you want to move yourself? Spider and I'll be here to help if you need it."

"I can manage." Renee sat up, wincing. The movement was awkward, but she managed to crawl and scoot across the bed and onto the stretcher. Luttrell gently guided her into position, helping her turn on her side.

"Are you comfortable?" he asked.

"As much as I can be."

Spider drew a black strap across her chest and fastened it, as Cruz repeated the process with a second strap across her lower legs. The stretcher lurched slightly as it was lifted. Renee flinched and instinctively tightened her grip. Then she realized that she was clutching the side of the stretcher with one hand, and still holding on to Luttrell's hand with the other. She quickly let go. "Sorry."

He smiled reassuringly. "No problem. You're fine."

Spider looked down at her. "Relax, you're safe. Today's Thursday, and I only drop my patients on Fridays. And Cruz, at your feet there, already met his quota for dropping people today," he quipped. He grinned as Renee chuckled. "Really, don't worry," he said, becoming serious again. "We've got you. I promise we won't drop you."

"Wait." Renee pointed to the bedside table. "In the drawer, there should be a flashlight. I need to bring it back with me. It… it's very important. Can you get it, please?" Luttrell opened the drawer and pulled out a small plastic bag with Matthew Reed's flashlight inside. He tucked it into her hand. "Thank you."

He bent down and picked something up from the floor. "Do you want this, too?" It was the little cloth doll from Khalid.

"Yes, please."

Luttrell raised an eyebrow, but tucked the doll underneath her right arm.

Spider spoke into his radio. "Balad TOC, be advised, we've recovered Agent Walker. She's injured, but stable and in good condition."

"Copy," a male voice answered, sounding satisfied. "Good work. Now get her back here ASAP."

"Dustoff 87 Medevac, we have her packaged and ready for transport," Spider continued. "On our way out to you now."

"Copy," a second voice replied. "We're waiting for you."

"Let's move." Luttrell looked down at Renee with a smile. "Let's get you out of here."

She turned her head and made eye contact with Anwar and Dr. Hassan. "Thank you both. For everything."

"_Allah ma'ek,"_ Dr. Hassan replied. "God be with you."

The hallway was dark and quiet. From this angle, lying on her side, most of what Renee could see was a wall of camouflage fatigues and moving legs. Spider was at her head, and Cruz was at her feet. Luttrell and Ali walked on either side of the stretcher. Carter and Davis provided a security escort, rifles at the ready, with Davis leading the group and Carter bringing up the rear.

"There're some stairs here," Spider informed Renee as they reached the doorway. "Two flights. It'll be a little bumpy as we walk down."

The stretcher tilted downward, bouncing slightly in time with the two men's footsteps. Six sets of combat boots echoed on the concrete stairs as the team made their way down.

Cruz pushed the door open, and the cool night air hit Renee like a slap in the face. After dark, the air temperature dropped drastically. She shivered, her teeth chattering slightly, as they moved towards the large Black Hawk helicopter in the courtyard.

Its whirling rotor blades stirred up clouds of dust and grit. Luttrell cupped his hands above her face, shielding her eyes.

Cruz and Spider crouched slightly, ducking under the rotors, and moved to the open doorway. The jolting movement of footsteps stopped as they slid the stretcher onto the floor at the back of the helicopter.

The rest of the team climbed on board, stepped carefully around Renee and the stretcher, and sat down in front of her. The door slammed closed and the engines whined, preparing for take-off.

. .


	22. Chapter 22

When I first introduced Jamie's character as the medic caring for Jack, way back in Chapter 4, I mentioned that the character was based on a friend of mine.

The real Jamie L. served in the US military, and then served his community as a firefighter and a paramedic, before an injury forced him to quit working. He died very suddenly from illness in January 2014.

Since June 2007, I've been a civilian role player for training exercises for police, medical personnel, search & rescue teams, and the military. I've also been a real patient quite a few times, thanks to various health issues! Medical personnel will typically talk and joke with their patients, to try to keep them calm and keep their mind off of what's going on. Jamie was excellent at knowing what to say to reassure a frightened patient. He was also great at knowing what to say to role players in training exercises to make us all laugh! ;-) Most of the fun/joking lines from Luttrell and Jamie in this chapter are things that I've heard from medical personnel, both in training scenarios and real situations. I thought that including them in here was a nice touch and a fitting tribute.

. .

Chapter 22

As they lifted off, Renee caught a split-second glimpse of the armed Apache helicopter flying close behind them.

"Welcome aboard, ma'am." Another man, with a red cross patch on his shoulder sleeve, appeared in her line of vision. "My name's Jamie." He gently placed a pair of headphones over her ears and adjusted the microphone in front of her mouth. "Here's a comms headset for you. Now we won't have to yell for the entire flight."

In the privacy and safety of the helicopter, Ali unwrapped his _khaffiyeh_, revealing his face. Now Renee could see that he looked like a slightly older version of Anwar. She made eye contact with him. "Anwar, the man guarding me in the hospital, told me he has a brother who works with the Americans at Balad. That's you, isn't it?"

He nodded. "Yes. Anwar is my brother. He told me about the American woman who he was assigned to watch, and we told the soldiers."

"Renee!" Her head jerked up. There was Jack, leaning towards her, holding out his hand. She noticed his other arm was in a cast, apparently broken. "I would hug you, but I don't want to hurt you," he said. He held out his good hand instead, and she grabbed it, smiling.

Davis leaned back, his rifle resting across his lap. "Go ahead and kiss the lady already," he said with a grin. Jack and Renee both looked at him, surprised. "I'm sure you keep it professional when you're on the clock, but none of us are blind or stupid. It's obvious."

Jack smiled, shrugged, and leaned down to kiss her lightly on the cheek.

"Honestly, Agent Walker, I'm surprised he didn't find some way to requisition weapons and gear and go rescue you himself."

"Believe me, I thought about it," Jack replied.

Luttrell and Jamie appeared on either side of Renee. "You can stay right there, Jack," Jamie said as he started to move out of the way. "We'll work around you."

Luttrell produced two blankets, folded them, and gently tucked them along her back. "There. With the position you're lying in, that'll pad some of the void and provide a little extra cushion for you. We're heading to Joint Base Balad, to the hospital there. It's about a thirty-five minute flight, so we'll do our best to make you comfortable."

"Do _not_ feel free to move about the cabin," Jamie quipped. "Unfortunately, there is no beverage or tasty snack service on this flight. Also, we ask that you keep your arms and hands inside the ride at all times until the aircraft has come to a complete stop."

Renee laughed, then flinched and gasped. "Oh, please don't make me laugh. That hurts."

"Sorry," he apologized. "We do what we can. Anything to distract a patient, keep them calm, and keep their mind off of what's going on."

"Have you ever been to Balad?" Luttrell asked.

"No. I've been to other countries in the Middle East, but never Iraq."

"You'll be in good hands. The hospital's staffed by Army and Air Force doctors and medics – some of the best, if I do say so myself," he said with a wink, pointing to the Air Force insignia on his uniform.

Renee looked up at Jack. "You were Army Special Forces. These men are Army and Air Force. No remarks about branch rivalry?" she teased.

"Hey, careful," Jamie warned. "What are you trying to do, start a riot?"

Laughter rippled through the helicopter.

Carter leaned forward and looked at Jack. "Where were you deployed?"

As Jack and the group of soldiers and airmen discussed missions and deployments, Renee tuned out their conversation and focused on the two medics.

Jamie pressed a stethoscope against her chest. "Your heart sounds like machine-gun fire," he said, raising an eyebrow.

"BP's slightly elevated, too," Luttrell reported as he removed the blood pressure cuff from her arm.

"Are you scared? In pain?" Jamie asked.

"Painkillers wore off at least an hour ago while I was asleep, I woke up from a nightmare that scared the hell out of me, and your team came in a few minutes later," Renee told him.

"That would do it. Probably a combination of the adrenaline and the pain."

Luttrell cupped her chin in his hands and turned her head towards him, studying her face. "That's an impressive black eye. Your left eye's pretty swollen. From what I was told, you have an orbital fracture. How did that happen? Did you get hit in the face?"

"Twice, that I know of. Once when I tried to overpower my guard, and once when I was fighting against Sayid's goons holding me."

"Good for you." Jamie smiled slightly. "Did you get in any good hits?"

"A few, definitely. But they were stronger and I was outnumbered, so that didn't last long."

"So I can see," he said darkly, his gaze sweeping over her battered body.

"There's some pretty significant bruising here," Luttrell observed, gently inspecting the tender area on her right side, where the two cracked ribs were. "The pattern's consistent with a heavy shoe or boot kicking or stepping on you."

Out of the corner of her eye, Renee saw Jack's jaw clench in anger.

"Probably," she said. "I remember some of Sayid's thugs beating me when I was first brought in. I passed out from the pain after the whipping, and woke up again in the room where I was held. God only knows what all they did. He wanted to hurt me; there's no question about that."

She tensed as Jamie's hand brushed against her shoulder. "I'm not going to touch those wounds on your back," he said. "The bleeding's stopped, so they're okay for now. Pulling those dressings off wouldn't feel very good. I'll let the team at Balad handle that. They can do a better job with pain control."

Renee glanced up at Jack. "We make an interesting pair, don't we?" she said wryly, gesturing between them. "Look at this mess."

"I think you won the IV bruise contest," Luttrell said, shaking his head at the bruises that dotted both of her arms. "On that note, I'm going to put in a line and get you some meds. Voodoo, can you hand me an IV kit?"

"Voodoo?" Renee repeated.

"My nickname and call sign. Long story," Jamie told her. "Luttrell is Reaper."

She raised an eyebrow. "As in the Grim Reaper?"

"No. As in the medic who saves lives and defeats the Grim Reaper," Luttrell corrected. "Not to be confused with the _Reapers," _he added. "They're Air Force, and so am I, but they're a Special Forces security team."

"Nicknames can get pretty creative. Some are complimentary, others not so much," Carter said wryly. "For a while, I was called Airborne. Earned that one when I lost my balance and fell off of a ladder – one of the rungs close to the bottom, thankfully."

"Nothing embarrassing here," Spider said. "My last name's Webb, so it wasn't hard for them to come up with Spider."

"During my first deployment to Iraq, I was Boogey Man," Davis said. "Night vision goggles screwed up my depth perception, so I was constantly bumping into everything. I was 'the thing that went bump in the night.'"

"So you're flying with Voodoo, Reaper, a klutz named Airborne, a clumsy Boogey Man, and a Spider. What a crew." Carter nodded to Jack. "How about you? Any interesting nicknames or call signs?"

"None that I can repeat," Jack replied dryly. The group chuckled.

Returning to the task at hand, Luttrell opened a package of IV supplies. He tied a blue rubber tourniquet around Renee's right arm and searched for a suitable vein. "If you don't like needles, now would be a good time to look away. I'll be as gentle and quick as I can. But if I hurt you too badly, feel free to hit him," he added with a smirk, nodding towards Jamie.

"Hey!"

Renee laughed, flinching again.

"Sorry." Luttrell smiled, not looking up from his task. "Okay, here we go. Little stick." He quickly and smoothly inserted the needle, assembled the line, and taped it into place on her arm. "There. Done." He reached up to hang the bag of fluid on the conveniently placed hook. "You're a little dehydrated. This'll help with that."

Jamie approached with a syringe. "I'm going to give you some Fentanyl. The team at the hospital will want to talk with you and check you out, so we need you to be awake and alert for a little while longer. This dose won't knock you out, but it'll take away some of the pain. Sometimes it can make you feel dizzy and sick to your stomach. We have medicine to help with that, so speak up if you need any, okay?" He smiled. "And if you feel like you're going to be sick, turn your head _that _way," he said, pointing to Luttrell.

Jack chuckled. That time, Renee settled for a grin and a snicker.

Luttrell made a face. "Thanks," he said wryly. He picked up the little doll from Khalid, which had fallen over the side of the stretcher. "Mind if I ask why this is significant? And the flashlight, too. Where did those come from?"

"The doll came from the man who was guarding me. He has a daughter. He left blankets in my cell for me, and the doll was caught up in one of them. I kept it. Something cute to look at and hold on to."

"And the flashlight?"

Renee looked down at the small plastic bag, still lying next to her. "That belongs to Specialist Matthew Reed."

Heads swiveled towards her as the men reacted in shock.

"How do you know that?" Luttrell asked sharply.

"Because he gave it to me," Renee replied. "Sayid sent him to bring me food at one point, and he left the flashlight with me. Sayid didn't plan on me making it out of there alive, so I guess he thought it didn't matter if I knew about Reed. I've seen his picture; I know his face. I recognized him, asked, and he confirmed it. He told me that he wasn't captured; he deserted willingly. Gave me some line about how life is too short to spend it supporting lies and misguided ideas. How he went from a soldier in the US Army to working with Ahmad Sayid, I don't know. He snapped at me, saying that he hadn't come to explain himself to me, and left. I didn't see him again after that. I don't know how he got there, or what Sayid might have planned for him to do. I took the flashlight and kept it. Maybe they can get his prints off of it."

"Damn," Carter muttered, summing up everyone's thoughts.

"No kidding." Davis ran a hand over his face. "Sayid's got an American working for him. And not just any American, but a former soldier who a lot of people thought was dead. He's a traitor, a disgrace to his comrades and his country," he said disgustedly. "With the behavior we've seen from Sayid so far, God only knows what the two of them have in mind."

"Believe me, I won't forget to bring that up when they debrief me," Renee said. "I want to track him down. I want answers as much as you do."

As the painkiller took effect, the throbbing pain in her back and side gradually faded into a dull ache. Renee relaxed, leaning her head back against the blanket tucked behind her.

Luttrell leaned towards her. "How are you doing? Better now? Feeling that Fentanyl?"

"Much better. Thank you."

"Good."

She shivered. "I'm so cold. What did you put in that IV? Ice water?"

"Nope, just the dose of Fentanyl, and regular fluids. Your body temperature's elevated from your fever, so it feels colder than normal."

Jamie adjusted the drip rate on the IV line. "Maybe next time, you can get the Powers That Be to send you somewhere nice and warm. Other than the giant sandbox here in the desert, of course."

She smiled. "I'll be on the lookout for bad guys who live on a really nice tropical beach."

Jack raised an eyebrow. "You know, that could be dangerous. Some of those areas have pretty high crime rates."

"He's right," Spider spoke up. "I think you would need to take some of us along as security escorts and recon personnel. You know, just as a precaution. Just in case."

Renee chuckled. "I'll keep that in mind."

"We'll be on the ground in about ten minutes," Luttrell told her. "After you've been taken care of by the medical staff and gotten some rest, you'll be debriefed about everything. In your line of work, I know you've been through that process before, so you know what to expect."

Renee knew they would go over her encounter with Sayid and his men in painstaking detail, asking questions, gathering information, carefully examining every detail.

"Next stop, Joint Base Balad," Jamie announced.

. .


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

The helicopter descended from the night sky above Iraq, approaching the huge, sprawling base. Renee watched Joint Base Balad come into view below them.

The helicopter touched down on the landing pad outside of the hospital building, and the engines slowly powered down.

Renee glanced around, making eye contact with the team of soldiers and airmen. "Thank you all."

"Our pleasure," Carter said kindly.

"Welcome to Balad," Luttrell announced as the group exited the helicopter. He and Jamie picked up either end of Renee's stretcher.

Jack walked alongside them, still holding on to her hand.

They entered the tent that connected the helipad to the hospital entrance. Renee stared up at the enormous American flag on the ceiling above them, stretching the entire length of the tent. A green road sign labeled this passageway as, _"Heroes' Highway."_ The flag was a visible sign for wounded American military personnel that they were in American territory, in good hands, and would be taken care of.

Jamie leaned down to make eye contact with her. "When we get inside here, there's going to be a lot of activity, a lot of things happening to you. Just relax. You're safe. They're going to take good care of you."

Renee smiled gratefully.

She blinked as they stepped into the hospital emergency department. Compared to the darkness outside, the lights were blinding. Al-Kindi hospital had been decent, but the medical center at Balad was a top-notch facility. It was large, spotless, brightly lit, and buzzing with activity. It looked like any trauma center in the United States, except that the medical staff here were dressed in a mixture of scrubs and camouflage uniforms.

Jack gently squeezed her hand. "I'm going to wait out here. I'll come back as soon as they're finished with you."

"Bring her this way, over here," a woman directed, guiding them into one of the treatment bays. She wore tan camouflage pants, and a brown uniform t-shirt peeked out from under her scrub top. A stethoscope was draped around her neck. "What do we have?"

"Agent Renee Walker," Luttrell told her. "Four days spent as a prisoner in captivity, and roughly eighteen hours under the care of medical staff at Al-Kindi hospital."

"Injuries?"

"Dehydration. Cuts and bruises. Sprained left ankle. Right side has two cracked ribs and significant bruising. Deep wounds across her back, from a serious beating with a whip. The neck laceration and wounds on her back are infected."

"Vital signs?"

Jamie rattled off the numbers.

"IV access in right arm," she observed. "What meds does she have on board?"

"Normal saline and fluids for hydration, and a push of Fentanyl for pain relief," Luttrell answered.

"Agent Walker?" The tall, red-haired woman peered down at her. "I'm Captain Jessica Porter. How are you doing? Can you talk to me?"

"She's alert and oriented," Luttrell reported. "She was talking and joking with us during the flight here."

"Call me Renee, please."

"Okay, Renee." She scribbled something in the folder on the table. "Can we get you off of that stretcher and onto the bed here?"

Luttrell and Jamie pushed the stretcher alongside the treatment bay's bed. Renee gritted her teeth as the three of them gently and carefully transferred her onto it. Someone raised the head of the bed so she was sitting up slightly.

"Renee?" A man appeared in her line of vision. His demeanor told her he was one of the more senior members of the medical staff, a veteran who'd seen all the horrors that combat zones had to offer, and was calm and in control. "I'm Major Jeff McNeil. My team and I are going to take good care of you." His tone was calm, reassuring. He smiled kindly. "Sergeant Luttrell said they gave you some Fentanyl for pain. How do you feel now? Any pain?"

"Some."

"How bad? On a scale of one to ten, from very mild to excruciating."

"Maybe a three or four. Definitely noticeable, but tolerable."

"Good. Speak up and let us know if that changes."

Two more people entered the room, one man and one woman. Major McNeil gestured to them. "These are Major Marc Ramirez, and Specialist Christina Lee."

Major Ramirez held out his hand for Renee to shake. "Welcome to Balad. Our team took care of Agent Bauer, and we'll do the same for you. A lot of people have been working to find you. We're very glad to see you safe."

"Thank you, sir."

Luttrell and Jamie quickly filled the two newcomers in on the situation and Renee's condition, including the information that Luttrell had gotten from Dr. Hassan.

"You're in very capable hands here, Renee," Jamie said. "We're going to leave and let them take over."

After they had left the room, Captain Porter placed a gentle hand on Renee's shoulder. "I need to ask you a question, and I need you to answer honestly," she said. "The hostiles who held you obviously didn't treat you well. Were you sexually assaulted?"

Sexual violence was a common tactic of terrorism; rape and assault were torture methods of choice among many insurgent groups. Renee knew this. Still, the question made her flinch. "No," she said. "Some of them were going to, when I was first brought in. But the man who was guarding me stopped them. No one else ever tried after that."

With that question answered, they continued with their assessment.

"Here's what we're going to do," Major McNeil said after a few minutes. "Are you allergic to any medications? Any sensitivities that we should know about?" She shook her head no. "Good. We'll be moving you around to take some x-rays, treat those wounds on your back, and get you all taken care of. I'm going to give you some medication in your IV to make it easier for you. You'll feel very relaxed, probably very sleepy. Feel free to close your eyes and go to sleep while we work."

He left the room, returning a few minutes later with two syringes. "I'll give you some anti-nausea medicine, just as a precaution. And this one will make you feel relaxed and drowsy." Renee watched the last few drops of the liquid travel through the line. "That should kick in pretty quickly."

He was right. Renee felt a numb, weighted sensation gradually spreading through her body, and her vision blurred slightly. She blinked and shook her head, trying to clear it.

"When you wake up, we'll be finished, and you'll have some good pain meds to keep you comfortable," McNeil said.

That sounded good, she thought drowsily. Very good.

"Once you're feeling better, someone – actually, probably quite a few people – will come to debrief you. In your line of work, I know you've been through that process before, so you know how that works."

Renee knew they would go over her encounter with Sayid and his men in painstaking detail, asking questions, gathering information, carefully examining every detail.

Her injuries, the pain, Sayid, Matthew Reed, questions and details… all of it felt very far away.

She realized that Captain Porter was holding her hand. The woman smiled down at her. "You don't need to think about any of that right now. Go ahead and sleep."

Her eyes refused to stay open any longer. She closed her eyes and slept.

. .


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

Jack glanced at the clock. It was just after 11:30, approaching midnight.

Footsteps squeaked on the tile floor. Four people were wheeling two stretchers down the hallway towards the door. The two wounded Americans would be loaded into a transport bus, driven to a waiting C-17 plane, and flown five hours to Landstuhl Regional Medical Center in Germany.

One of the men was blindfolded by bandages and gauze. A large dressing covered his right eye and the right side of his face. His good left eye had been covered with a smaller square of gauze, to prevent him from trying to see and causing strain to the injured eye. He stirred slightly, turning his head on the pillow and mumbling something that Jack couldn't hear. An Air Force nurse gently grasped his hand and leaned close to his ear, answering him, her voice calm and soothing.

The second man laid still and silent, in a haze of heavy painkillers and sedatives, wrapped in a blanket. The outline of his left leg and foot was visible, but the blanket sloped unevenly over his right knee. The space where his lower leg should have been was flat and empty.

They disappeared through the doorway. Jack faintly heard a female voice giving a report to the transport team. "These are the last two for this transport. Clark and Keller." She continued her report, the sound of her voice fading as they boarded the truck and worked on getting the two patients settled and ready for transport.

Doors slammed. The truck pulled away from the hospital, heading towards the waiting airplane. The first leg of the two wounded men's journey back to the United States had begun.

Suddenly there was a muffled thump, the sound of someone's hand clumsily hitting the wall. A young man was standing in the doorway of a room farther down the hallway, clinging to a wheeled IV stand and leaning against the wall for balance. His gaze fell on the empty chair next to Jack, and he took an unsteady step forward.

Jack got to his feet. "You're going to fall. Here, let me help."

"I'm fine, sir."

"Right." Jack caught his arm as he stumbled. "Here. Hang on to the IV pole with that hand, and I'll hold on to you. Don't take me down with you. I'm enough of a mess as it is." The young man staggered. "Are you supposed to be up?"

"No," he bit out through gritted teeth, taking another few painstaking, wobbly steps.

"I didn't think so. What's your name?"

"Morrison, sir. Corporal Eric Morrison." He eyed Jack. "Why? You going to tell on me?" he asked wryly.

Jack chuckled. "What are you trying to do, sneak out of here?"

Eric snorted. "Look at me. I can't even make it across the hallway without feeling like I'm going to pass out and fall on my face," he said disgustedly. "They're keeping me here for observation, and then I'll go back to our base and be on medical restrictions until the concussion heals." He grimaced. "We hit an IED in Hadi Suhayl. The bastards buried it in a hole in the road, hid the wire with dirt and gravel, and we drove right over it."

"And the rest of your squad…?" Jack asked cautiously.

"Four of them were patched up and released, sent back to our base earlier." His expression darkened. "Clark and Sergeant Keller were in bad shape; they'll probably be getting medevaced out to Germany. And Riley… I don't know. He was really bad." His jaw clenched. He glanced down the hallway. "They told me to lay still and rest. I did, for a while. Now I want to know what's going on."

Brisk footsteps approached; combat boots tapping on the tile floor. Eric froze, shooting Jack a look that said _Uh-oh. _A nurse turned the corner, and her eyes widened as she spotted him. _"That's _why your monitor alarms are going off at the nurse's station. What are you doing out of bed?"

"Sorry, ma'am," he apologized. "I-I wanted to find out about the others. My squad mates who came in with me. How are they?"

She softened. "Believe me, I understand. But you can't get out of bed by yourself. You're too weak and unsteady." She grabbed the empty chair and dragged it closer. "Here. You're shaking. Sit down before you fall down." Eric collapsed into it with a groan. He was pale, and sweat beaded on his face. "Sit there and catch your breath. Then we'll get you back into bed. If you need to get up, somebody needs to be there to help you."

"It'd be easier to be still if someone would just tell me something," he said.

"I know," she said kindly. "Sergeant Keller and Private Clark are en route to Germany; they left on the transport about ten minutes ago. They're stable. They'll get the best possible care from the flight team and the staff at Landstuhl."

He relaxed slightly at this news. "And Riley?"

"They're working on him now. They're doing everything they can for him, I promise."

"Will he make it?" Eric stared at her, pleading.

"I can't tell you that right now," she said. "I do know they'll try their hardest and do everything they possibly can." He bit his lip. That answer said everything. "As soon as there's anything new to report, I'll make sure someone lets you know."

"Thank you."

"Now, let's get you back into bed. You're pale and shaking. Let me guess – you're dizzy, your head hurts, and you feel like you might throw up."

Eric nodded grimly. "Yes, ma'am," he admitted.

"That's what I thought. It's a short walk, but you're not in any shape to make it. Let me get a wheelchair." She walked down the hallway, returned shortly with a wheelchair, and carefully helped him into it. Eric leaned his head back and closed his eyes as she wheeled him back down the hallway.

The nurse settled him back in bed, reattached monitors, and gave him stern instructions to call for help if he needed to get up again.

As she left the room, she looked at Jack sitting in the chair. "You're waiting for Agent Walker, aren't you? I think they'll be bringing her back in about an hour. They'll get her settled and make sure she's comfortable, and then you can go see her. Go take a nap or get something to eat if you need to. Someone will be sure to come get you."

Jack got to his feet again and wandered down the hallway.

Behind the set of swinging doors at the end of the hallway, one of the trauma bays was in crisis mode. He heard rushing footsteps and sharp, urgent voices. He knew those sounds. The staff in the emergency department was desperately trying to save the life of whoever was on the table in that room.

The noise and chaos slowly faded. Shrill monitor alarms quieted, and voices dropped to murmurs.

A solemn male voice announced, "Time of death, 11:52 PM."

A chaplain made his way down the hallway. Behind him was an airman carrying a folded flag to render final honors. The two men walked into the emergency department, towards the treatment bay where the fallen American's body lay.

Jack had witnessed "Fallen Angel" ceremonies before. He knew all the medical staff were standing at attention, silently saluting, as the flag was unfolded and gently tucked around the body.

The doors swung open, and the medical team slowly trickled out in small groups of two and three. Their shoulders were slumped, faces grim. A blond female nurse leaned against the wall, wiping away tears.

Jamie turned and slammed a fist against the wall. He caught sight of Jack watching him and shook his head. "Damn it," he choked out.

"Who was it?" Jack asked quietly.

"A Marine. One of the wounded from the IED blast in Hadi Suhayl," Jamie answered. "Corporal Jonathan Riley, twenty-three years old."

Jack gritted his teeth. He and Renee weren't Sayid's only casualties.

It was nearly midnight in the Middle East, but still afternoon in the United States. At this point, a family was still blissfully unaware that their world had changed. Some time in the next several hours, a car with a casualty notification team would pull into the driveway of a house, and men in neatly pressed formal dress uniforms would knock on the door and inform them of their loss.

The doors to the emergency department swung open, and two soldiers emerged with a stretcher.

All activity in the hallway ceased. Soldiers, airmen, and members of the medical staff stood at attention, solemnly saluting the flag-draped stretcher as it slowly passed by.

The soldiers and the stretcher disappeared from sight, and the door closed behind them with a quiet click. The medical staff began moving again, cleaning up the trauma bay, returning to work.

A nurse walked towards Eric's room, accompanied by the chaplain. Jack wondered if the young Marine had fallen asleep or was lying in bed, waiting for news.

Quiet voices, too low for their words to be heard outside of the room… a pause… then a sharp cry, a curse, and muffled sobs.

Jack turned away, moving farther down the hallway, away from the sounds of grief.

He pushed the door open and stepped outside into the cool night air, staring up at the stars.


	25. Chapter 25

Hello! I'm back, FINALLY! I'm so sorry that it's been so long. I really wanted to write more of this story, but life was a little crazy for a while, and then I couldn't get past a giant writer's block! I've FINALLY figured some things out, so here's another chapter for you.

I hope I still have some readers!

I've realized that this is going to be a very long story. **:-)** I have plenty more ideas, and a lot of things still need to happen before this story is finished! (Hopefully the rest of these chapters are easier to write.) I hope you keep reading and enjoying the story as it continues.

. .

Chapter 25

Jack's cell phone rang, shattering the quiet. He fished it out of his sweatshirt pocket. "Bauer."

"Jack, it's Chloe." She paused. "It's almost midnight there. Did I wake you up?"

"No, I'm still awake. What's going on?"

"I was able to get information on those eight prisoners Sayid wants," she told him. "It turns out that they're not in US military custody, at least not anymore. They were handed over to Iraqi control and transferred to Karkh prison last year."

He frowned. "That means the Americans would have almost no authority to be able to get them released. Sayid has to know that. Why would he try to use them as his bargaining chip for Renee?"

"He wants her dead. And you too, most likely," Chloe said grimly. "If negotiations for their release weren't able to start before the end of his deadline, that would give him an excuse to make good on his threat and kill Renee."

Jack shuddered.

"The detainees at Karkh are fairly high-value and significant," he said. "Who are the men that Sayid asked for?"

"One arms dealer, one sniper, two very talented explosives experts, a bomb-maker who was their protégé, and three who were members of groups with ties to Abu Musab al-Zarqawi. Apparently one of them was involved in kidnappings of multiple Westerners in summer 2004, and the other two have been linked to hostage executions."

"We're forty-five hours into Sayid's seventy-two hour deadline," Jack said. "He obviously doesn't have Renee anymore, and at some point he's going to figure out that we do. Since he can't use her as leverage anymore, he'll have to come up with another way to get those prisoners released. Part of his plan might have been to use them as some kind of diversion, but I don't think he picked those people at random. An arms supplier, weapons experts, and hostage-takers. He has to be planning something else." He wearily ran a hand over his face. "When Renee's awake, they'll debrief her. Hopefully that'll give them some useful intel."

"I sent you the files on those eight men, but the personnel there at Balad are directly involved, so they'll be much more useful than I will from here."

"Thanks, Chloe."

"We're all glad that you and Renee are safe. Now, will you hurry up and get back to the US? We need you two back here." He could hear the smile in her voice.

The call ended, and Jack slipped the phone back into his pocket.

A tall, red-haired woman stepped through the door. "Agent Bauer? They told me you were out here. I'm Captain Jessica Porter." She held out a hand for him to shake, then motioned for him to follow her inside. "I'll take you to Renee. She's doing fine. She's asleep now, but you can see her."

She led him into a small cubicle. Renee was curled up in the bed, sleeping.

"We gave her a mild sedative and some pain medication. Normally I'd expect her to wake up when the sedative starts wearing off, but she's obviously been through quite an ordeal, so I wouldn't be surprised if she slept for longer than that. I don't want you to worry. We'll keep an eye on her."

"Thank you very much."

"It's our pleasure," Captain Porter said kindly. "I'll come back in a while to check on her. If either of you need anything else, let someone know."

Renee was oblivious to the hospital noise surrounding her. Jack slipped out of the room. He would get some sleep, and then read the files that Chloe had sent.

**/ / / / /**

**2:05 A.M. **

**Karkh Central Prison, Baghdad**

Under the regime of Saddam Hussein, corruption and bribes were common, a way of life, especially in prisons. Cigarettes or a cigar could buy someone five or ten undisturbed minutes with a family member about to be executed. Forbidden liquor could buy an hour or two, or even more if the guards couldn't resist temptation and decided to drink it. Movies, books, and magazines smuggled in from the West could buy more.

And, of course, money talked. The right price, paid to the right person, could get you almost anything you wanted.

Saddam was gone, and Karkh prison had changed hands from his Republican Guard, to the American military, to Iraqi authorities. But some things in this country still hadn't changed.

Khalil Ghazi reached into his pocket and touched the keys, making sure they were still there. He'd paid dearly for them.

He crouched silently in the darkness, waiting, watching.

An engine roared and tires screeched on pavement. Gunfire erupted as the guards opened fire on the car speeding towards the front gate. A fireball lit up the night sky and the ground shook as the vehicle bomb detonated in a massive explosion.

Khalil flattened himself against the ground as an RPG whistled over his head, landing inside the fence.

With that, all hell broke loose.

RPG's and mortars rained down on the fence and the prison walls.

Black-clad men emerged from the darkness, flooding through the holes in the perimeter, swarming into the compound.

Guards came running from all directions, and were met with a hail of bullets.

Khalil followed five men into the building in front of them, rifles at the ready. His finger tightened on the trigger as a guard appeared in front of them. A flashlight beam lit up the man's face, and Khalil lowered the rifle. He didn't know the man's name, only that he was a friend and ally.

The guard acknowledged them with a nod and pointed down the hallway. "Three of your men are there, in the last three cells."

"I'm looking for Ayad Ghazi and Reza Yassin," Khalil said. "My younger brother and my cousin."

"They are here." The man pulled a ring of keys from his pocket and unlocked one door, while Khalil opened the other.

"Ayad," he said quietly.

The man inside the cell was awake, tense and wide-eyed, listening to the noise outside. At the sound of his name, his head jerked up. He stared at the shadowy figure in the doorway. "Khalil? Is that you?"

"Yes, it's me." Ayad leaped to his feet, hurried to the door, and flung his arms around Khalil's neck. Grinning and blinking back tears, Khalil returned the hug. "My little brother."

"_Little _brother? Younger brother, but not little. I'm taller than you."

"Skinnier, too." Khalil frowned. "You've lost weight. We need to feed you." He tugged on Ayad's arm, pulling him out of the cell. "Let's go."

He looked at the second cell door. Reza had already stepped out into the hallway and was waiting for him. Like Ayad had done, he grabbed Khalil in a tight hug, nearly knocking him over.

"_Allahu akbar!"_ His joyful shout echoed down the hallway.

"The other man you want is here," the guard said, unlocking the third door.

"Jamal?" Khalil asked. He answered with a nod. "Good. Sayid is waiting for us. Come with me. Quickly."

The man didn't need any urging. He quickly joined the group in the hallway.

Khalil looked at the guard. _"Shukran, akhona. _Thank you, brother."

"_Allahu akbar,"_ the man answered.

Gunshots rang out behind them. Blood splattered across Khalil's cheek as the fighter next to him collapsed. Another man behind him staggered and fell. A third howled and clutched at his shoulder as another bullet tore through it.

Their ally spun around, raised his gun, and fired several rapid shots. Shock registered on the two guards' faces as they realized that he had betrayed them, but they were dead before they could react.

The sounds of explosions and gunfire came from outside.

"_Yallah, _move!"Khalil ordered. The group – now minus the two fallen martyrs – dashed down the hallway towards the door.

Black-clad _mujahideen _fighters swarmed through the compound of buildings, seeking out the men who they had come for. In each building, they either encountered allies waiting for them, or shot the guards and soldiers who got in their way.

Chaos and confusion reigned. Flickering flames lit up the night sky, and smoke hung heavily in the air.

Wounded men and dead bodies – prisoners, guards, soldiers, and fallen _mujahideen_ – were scattered across the ground.

"Can you move, Imad?" Khalil asked, looking at the blood soaking through the leg of the man's orange jumpsuit.

"The other choice is to rot here in this hellhole," he bit out. "So yes, I will move." Another _mujahid_ appeared and helped Khalil lift him up. _"Shukran," _Imad managed gratefully. The three of them moved towards the fence together, followed by two men in yellow jumpsuits.

A volley of bullets flew in their direction, some zipping over their heads and others kicking up dust around their feet. Imad yelped as they hit the ground, diving for cover.

An answering burst of gunfire came from somewhere off to their left, killing some of the guards and sending others scrambling for cover and another firing position.

Khalil and the group got up again and kept moving towards the fence.

A guard writhed on the ground, gasping and moaning. Two gunshots silenced his cries, and his body stilled.

Khalil stepped over the limp, bloody body and kept moving.

Sirens wailed in the distance as police officers and soldiers sped towards the prison compound. As far as he was concerned, they didn't matter now. He'd gotten what – or rather, who – he had come for.

At the gate, the five men were met with open arms, their jumpsuits quickly covered with dark blankets and cloaks, and ushered into the waiting truck. Khalil accepted the hand that was held out to him and climbed up into the truck with them.

The _mujahid_ in the front seat grinned and held his AK-47 out the window, firing a celebratory burst into the air. Joyous shouts of _"Allahu akbar!" _came from several of the men as the truck lurched forward and sped away down the road.

. .


	26. Chapter 26

Here's another chapter!

I'm sorry for the delay, again. :-( Some writer's block, and life being a little busy and crazy for a while, means that it took much longer to get this chapter written than I would have liked!

I hope I still have readers, and that you're still enjoying the story!

. .

Chapter 26

Jack was jolted out of a sound sleep as a voice blared over the hospital PA system. "Attention. Incoming MasCas."

A curse from the hallway. "Again? Damn it, who pissed off the trauma gods?"

Jack heard a flurry of footsteps in the hallway as medical staff hurried towards the ER to prepare for the incoming patients.

"Listen up," a commanding voice called out. "Here's what we have. We've received multiple reports of a large-scale assault on the Karkh prison facility. At least twenty Iraqi security force personnel were killed. The attackers used a large VBIED, mortars, RPG's, and small- and large-caliber arms. So far, there are sixty wounded. Hostiles, Karkh inmates, and ISF personnel. They're being divided between the coalition-run hospitals. We have eight patients inbound now, three category Alphas with serious wounds, three cat-Bravo, and two cat-Charlie with minor wounds. One Charlie and one Bravo are inmates; all the rest of them are ISF. ETA eleven minutes. Let's move."

The doctor continued talking, reporting on the patients' injuries and directing staff assignments, but Jack had stopped listening. An attack on Karkh prison… it wasn't too much of a stretch to think that Sayid might have had something to do with it.

Helicopter rotors thundered overhead as a medevac flight arrived, heading towards the landing pad outside the hospital.

The ER doors burst open as the first two stretchers were wheeled inside. The noise and chaos level increased immediately.

Screams. Moans. Sharp, urgent voices.

_"Dawa, biddi dawa," _a man moaned weakly in Arabic, begging for medicine for the pain.

"We haven't been able to give him anything," the medic reported. "He's unstable and his BP's too low."

The whirlwind of activity continued. Rushing footsteps, overlapping voices of medical staff asking questions and giving orders, doors opening and closing.

Finally, someone closed the door at the end of the hallway, blocking out the sounds.

Major Williams poked his head into Renee's cubicle and caught Jack's eye. The grim expression on his face said he'd drawn the same conclusions that Jack had. "She'll be debriefed ASAP, as soon as she's awake and ready," he said quietly, looking at Renee. Then he was gone.

/ / / / /

Jack watched the airman standing next to Renee's bed. The dark-haired man had introduced himself as Lieutenant Ahmad, and told Jack to call him Sam. His movements were quick and skillful as he gently assessed Renee. She slept, undisturbed, oblivious to his presence.

"Vitals look good, and her fever finally broke," he said quietly. "Her temperature's normal. That's good progress." Before Jack could answer, Renee stirred, turning her head on the pillow. "Looks like she's finally waking up."

Renee's eyes fluttered open, and she blinked slowly.

"Holy crap, it's Rip Van Winkle." Jack leaned towards her. "You're awake."

"If I've been asleep for _that_ long, you look great for being over a hundred years old," she replied, smiling.

The lieutenant chuckled quietly.

Renee turned toward the sound, and he saw the almost imperceptible flinch as she caught sight of him. He stayed where he was, and kept his tone calm and friendly. "Agent Walker, you're in the hospital at Joint Base Balad. I'm Lieutenant Ahmad. My name's Samir, but I go by Sam. With what you've been through, if you're not comfortable with me being here, I can have somebody else take over."

She shook her head. "No. You're fine."

"Just FYI, my dad's from Kuwait and my mom's American. I grew up in Pennsylvania. Mom was an ER nurse, which is what got me interested in medicine. Now I'm a nurse in the Air Force, and an Arabic translator here when needed."

Renee blushed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to react like – "

"Don't apologize. That reaction was understandable. Out of all the personnel here, I'm one of the last people who you needed to see when you first woke up. That was poor planning on somebody's part," he said grimly. "Anyway, welcome back. It's good to see you awake."

"How long was I asleep?"

Lieutenant Ahmad checked his watch. "Almost ten hours. Your body needed the rest. I'm going to go let the doctor know you're awake."

There was a polite tap at the door, and Major McNeil poked his head into the room. "Well, look who's awake. Welcome back to the land of the living. How do you feel now? Any pain? Nausea?"

Renee shook her head. "No. I'm comfortable enough."

"Good. You have some painkillers, and Zofran for nausea, in your system now." McNeil leaned against the foot of the bed. "You've been through quite an ordeal. We're giving you some powerful antibiotics to take care of that infection, and we cleaned and redressed the wounds on your back and neck. Your fever finally broke and your temperature's down to normal, which is a good sign. The cracked ribs will take time to heal; we can't do anything to make that happen faster. You can bear weight on the sprained ankle as tolerated. From the report that we got from Al-Kindi hospital, you already got up and walked on it a little. Just listen to your body and be careful not to overdo it. Pain medication, antibiotics, food and water, and rest – that's my prescription for you."

The major pointed to Jack and raised an eyebrow. "I have to ask. Are you as stubborn as he is?"

"Hey!" Jack protested. "Who, me?"

Renee laughed.

McNeil smiled. "I don't want you to try anything like running laps around the hospital or leaping tall buildings in a single bound. Slow and steady. Take it easy. Okay?"

"I don't feel _that_ good yet," she said. "I'll be careful."

"Good. Thank you." He grew serious again. "Now that you're awake, they'll want to debrief you ASAP. I think you know time is of the essence."

She nodded. "Of course. I'm ready."

"Okay. I'll let them know."

. .

_More chapters coming soon, hopefully!_

**Author's Notes:**

**Real-world events:** Facts and fiction collide! The Karkh prison attack and escape in this story is based on a real-life event in Iraq in July 2013. The large-scale attack was coordinated by members of Al Qaeda and ISIS. Hundreds of militants/insurgents attacked a prison in Taji (north of Baghdad) and Abu Ghraib prison (west of Baghdad) with at least nine suicide vest bombers, three vehicle bombs, hundreds of mortar shells and RPG's, and large and small firearms. No inmates escaped from Taji, but around 500 inmates (including many high-ranking members of Al Qaeda in Iraq) escaped from Abu Ghraib.

Also, here are some translations for that chunk of military/medical-speak. :-)

**MasCas (or MasCal) –** Mass Casualty Incident, an incident with multiple injured patients.

**VBIED –** Vehicle-Borne IED (Improvised Explosive Device). A car (or truck) bomb.

**ISF – **Iraqi Security Forces. The police and military of Iraq (the new ones, trained by US and coalition forces after the fall of Saddam's regime).

**Triage –** French word meaning "to sort". Sorting wounded patients according to the severity of their injuries. There are four categories. Green/Minor ("walking wounded" with minimal injuries), Yellow/Delayed (more serious injury, needs treatment but can wait), Red/Immediate (life-threatening injury, needs treatment immediately), and Black (deceased, or "Expectant" – going to die, nothing can be done).

**Category Alpha –** Military triage classification for Immediate (Red) patients, priority one, with the most serious injuries.

**Category Bravo –** Second priority Delayed (Yellow) patients with less severe injuries.

**Category Charlie –** Third priority Minor (Green), patients with minor injuries.

. .


End file.
